


My Doctor

by GraciousK



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: But it's still good though I promise, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mary Sue, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Psychic Bond, Season/Series 06, Story within a Story, The Author Regrets Nothing, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraciousK/pseuds/GraciousK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as I can remember, my childhood was uneventful. I never had any friends, and I spent a lot of time reading books. Honestly, I don't really remember much of it... which is the first thing. But I didn’t know that. </p><p>Of course I didn’t. I didn’t remember. </p><p>But when I finally met the Doctor... I guess you could call it dating.  Or something.  More like… friends with benefits?  We didn’t really go out on dates.  He’d come over and hang out, and we’d hook up.  That’s pretty much it.</p><p>God, I can’t believe I’m actually going to tell you about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_In the dark, a light flashes red. As you get closer, it appears to be a small capsule, metal and glass encircling a gently pulsing light. A voice begins to emerge from it, and you listen:_

The Doctor, eh? Doctor, who?

If that’s the case, then you know he’s dead. What’s the point in talking about him?

How can you be so sure?

Look, it’s kind of a personal story, alright? I don’t like talking about it. Maybe you should try one of his travel buddies.

Something like that. And it’s not really any of your business. I don’t even know you.

Look, I don’t care. He can take care of himself.

Yes, of course I’d help if he needed me, but I don’t see how telling you our story would do that. Sorry.

Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s one of them. How did you even get that?

What’s wrong with you, why would you show me… sorry, what?

Alright. Okay. Fine. But if you use any of this to hurt him… alright, then. As long as we’re clear.

Yeah, I guess you could call it dating. Or something. More like… friends with benefits? We didn’t really go out on dates. He’d come over and hang out, and we’d hook up. That’s pretty much it.

What do you mean, ‘How did I meet him?’ If you know him, then you already know that. He just dropped out of the sky one day.

Look, it’s complicated.

Every detail? What, do you want to know how big his dick was or something?

…

What’s your name, again?

Alright. Pull up a chair.

God, I can’t believe I’m actually going to tell you about this. Let me get another drink first.

Oh, and if I’m doing this, you’re buying.


	2. The First Time

If I’m gonna tell it right, my story with the Doctor actually starts when I was a kid.  As far as I can remember, my childhood was uneventful. I never had any friends, and I spent a lot of time reading books. Honestly, I don't really remember much of it... which is the first thing.  But I didn’t know that. 

Of course I didn’t.  I didn’t remember.

The second thing was that I knew the Doctor by his reputation long before I met him. I grew up on stories of the Doctor, told by my Auntie Em. The Doctor and his TARDIS, with a changing face and countless companions, traveling through time and space, fixing things and saving people, always showing up when he's needed but never in the right order.

Auntie Em said she traveled with him before I was born... and, what with the time travel, long afterwards as well.  As I grew up I stopped believing in fairy tales.

Was I ever wrong about that.

Skipping to when I met him, I was finishing up college.  I think the first time he showed up was… my senior year? Yeah, towards the beginning of the fall semester. He always came in the evenings, when I was home alone. He had a lot of evenings like that to choose from, I guess. 

I was kind of in a slump.  That year I’d moved into my own place after a pretty bad breakup, and I didn’t really have friends in town.  I’d wanted to move in with my aunt, but she wouldn’t allow it.  For good reason, I learned later, but at the time she didn’t really—

Yeah, okay, sorry.  Tangent.  The point is, I used to throw myself a lot of pity parties in my cheap one-bedroom apartment.  And that’s how I was when the Doctor met me.

I'd just gotten out of the shower. Was drying myself off. I thought I was home alone, so I was mostly naked when I stepped out of my bathroom. And at just about the same time, _he_ stepped out of my bedroom door across the hall.

I was more startled than scared.  I think I tried to cover myself with my towel. I don't really remember what I did; I didn't run or scream, obviously, but... but I'll always remember what _he_ did.

The Doctor said my name, glanced down at me in the towel, cocked one eyebrow, and pulled me in for a kiss.

... Yeah.

I probably should have been scared, but I really wasn't.

It’s something I wouldn’t fully understand until later, but I felt it explode in my mind the instant he touched me.  There’s no other phrase to describe it except _psychic link_ – all of the feelings passing through the Doctor’s mind began rushing through mine.  It’s the strangest sensation, but at the same time weirdly familiar.  Have you ever seen someone crying and felt sad, or laughed just because someone else was laughing? It's like that, but more.  Way, way more.

So I wasn't scared, because he wasn’t scared.  He was all warm and fuzzy and excited to see me.  To me he was just a wild-haired, tweedy, bow-tied stranger; but for him it was more like a reunion with a familiar lover after being away far too long.  Which it was for him, I guess. 

I could feel his affection as if it were my own, but I didn't exactly kiss him back. I mostly just stood there, trying to cope with what was happening to me.

My lack of recognition startled him.  He broke off abruptly and stepped back, taking his hands off me, his eyebrows flying up his forehead. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

I gaped at him uselessly as his gaze darted around my apartment. He started talking to himself: “Not fully unpacked, so it's early days. How early exactly? Well then, let's see.” He turned to glance at my wall calendar. “Oh. Very early. Maybe even...” he trailed off, looking back at me with an almost horrified expression. “I'm sorry, have we met?”

“I…” _have no idea what’s going on_ , was what went through my head, but as I stared at him staring at me, I became very aware of how exposed I was in my towel. “I should put some clothes on.”

“We haven't met, have we?” He stepped towards me, but hesitated before he got close, making a fiddly gesture with his fingers.  “I'm sorry; I probably came off a bit... forward.”

In hindsight, it breaks my heart a little bit to think about what must have been going through his mind at that moment. But at that point, I had no idea. I just repeated that I should put clothes on, and then I rushed into my bedroom and locked the door behind me.

I almost ran straight into the TARDIS when I turned around.

When the Doctor noticed that I hadn’t really unpacked, he was entirely right.  My bedroom was the room I cared about the least, so it had been almost entirely bare except for my bed and a stack of boxes.  This was convenient, because the TARDIS took up almost a quarter of the tiny space.

I was astonished – I hardly believed the big blue box was real. I probably stood there for a good minute before I stepped forward slowly and touched the side of the box, half expecting my hand to go right through her.  I really wasn't prepared for what happened at all.

The psychic link roared wide open, but with the TARDIS this time – it was like a fire hose blasting me in the face with raw emotion, a thousand images all at once.  I pulled my hand away like I’d been burned, but in that flash it felt like I’d gotten a sampling of everything that had ever happened in the TARDIS, as if everything that ever happened to her was going on all at once.

I guess that might be what it’s like for her.

The flood of information affected me immediately.  I suddenly knew who the Doctor was, and _what_ he was, and I realized that the Doctor in the TARDIS had finally come to visit me, just like Aunt Em said he would.  The impossible, ridiculous childhood fairy tales were somehow true.  The time-traveling Doctor, who shows up in the wrong order... he was here. And of course he already knew me.  I just didn’t know him yet.

I stared at her – the TARDIS, I mean – thinking about all the bedtime stories, wondering how much I could see through the link. See, I still wasn't sure it was real. So I steeled myself, and I touched the side of the TARDIS again. 

Connecting psychically with the TARDIS the second time, I was thinking about my Auntie Em and the stories she told me. So the TARDIS showed me my aunt. Snapshots of memories, all coming from different points in time: Aunt Em squeezing herself into a tight-fitting gown; throwing the doors open as the console exploded behind her; her hands working the controls; and so much more. Too much to recount in words.

The thing that shocked me the most was seeing _myself_ inside the TARDIS, with my aunt clutching my hands desperately, her eyes brimming with tears.

I yanked my hand back again, breaking the link.  I reeled, trying to take everything in. I don't know how long I stood there. I was interrupted by a gentle knocking. 

“Sorry, are you alright?” the Doctor asked through the door.  I remember how his voice seemed familiar to me then, like the voice of an old friend. A lot had changed in those few minutes.

I said the first thing that came to mind.  “Fine. I’m fine. Getting dressed.”

I dug out some PJs and slipped them on while gears turned in my head.  I thought about how he kissed me, and the look in the Doctor’s eyes as his gaze raked down my body... I don’t know if the TARDIS impressed this upon me, or if I figured it out myself, but I realized we must have had some sort of relationship, but in my future at that point.

Looking back at how pleased I was, I must have been in desperate need of a rebound.  I might have also been sticking it to my aunt a little bit.  I mean, you know. She was desperately in love with the guy, and like I said, me and her weren’t on great terms at that point.

The Doctor had been pacing; as soon as I opened my bedroom door he turned and took a step toward me. He had that same concerned look, with worry lines crossing his forehead. I put on a smile, and reassured him, "Doctor, it's okay."

"Oh. Good!" The relief on his face would have been visible from space. "I was worried there for a minute."

"Me too."

He flopped onto on my couch, chattering conversationally.  “I have had a very long day. Very long, and somewhat scary. A whole hotel full of scary – someone actually took scary and constructed a holographic hotel around it, like a, a Stephen King movie, but in space.” He glanced up at me through his ridiculous hair, a gentle smirk on his face.  His voice went soft. "Are you going to come sit?"

Like any good companion, I did as the Doctor said. When I sat down, his arm slipped over my shoulders in a surprisingly comfortable way, considering he was a near-complete stranger.  The link reconnected, but was more of a tingle than the flood I’d felt earlier. "I also met a life-form that feeds on faith."

"A televangelist?"

The Doctor’s fingertips brushed the back of my head while he talked, and the empathic link swept open.  I could _feel_ his amusement. "Cheeky woman.  More of a minotaur, actually.  Generations of people revered him as a god.  Compared to them, he was a god, and more than that – a beautiful, brilliant creature." He paused, and I felt his anguish.  “And I killed him.  Cut off his food supply.”  Our eyes met. His worry lines were back, and his eyes were so, so old.

"He’s not the only one who died, either." The Doctor looked away. "Partly my fault. I thought I was helping people, but I was killing them.”  The phrase, _Drenched in the blood of the innocent_ passed through his mind, and a terrible sadness flowed through him.

"I... I'm sorry." I'd heard about some of the Doctor's adventures, and I knew that they didn't always turn out well, but I had no idea that the hero from my fairy tales felt such grief for the people he lost. From Auntie Em’s descriptions, I'd thought of the Doctor as happy-go-lucky, flighty, maybe a little shallow – a funny old man in a silly blue box flitting about the universe.  This emotional outpouring was even more surprising than his appearance in my apartment.

I still don't exactly know why I did what I did next, but it felt like the right thing to do, feeling his pain, wanting to console him. Actually... maybe I knew what to do because of the psychic link. Maybe I did it because he wanted me to do it.

I reached over and touched his face, where his hair falls across his temple. The Doctor closed his eyes and nestled his head into my hand, and the neediness radiating from him was almost overwhelming.

I brushed his cheek with my thumb, wishing I knew how to comfort him. I could feel his pain recede for a second, then flush back again. He gently put his other hand over mine, holding it to his cheek. "I'm only even here because I'm a... a vain old man who wants to be adored."

I pitied him terribly. "Doctor… everyone wants to feel loved. That's not something you should beat yourself up for."

"Yes, well. Still." He paused for a beat, eyes flashing, making a brief mental calculation.  Then he leapt towards me for another kiss.

This time he was more demanding, and this time I kissed him back.

He was an _amazing_ kisser, as you might expect from a thousand year old time traveler. I ran my fingers through his hair, and as I grazed his scalp the psychic connection opened wide.  I could feel his desire surging up to replace his sadness, and arousal stirring deep in his core - I could even feel the warmth of my own lips against his, layered over my own sensations.

His fingertips traced gently along the curve of my stomach, down to my thighs, back up to my neck. I wondered how far he wanted to take this... and briefly considered how far _I_ wanted things to go.  I wondered if I could catch an alien STD, or if I needed to get condoms… and an instant later I felt a rush of shock as he pulled his face away from mine. "What? No!  That’s not… wait.”  His hands found their way to my forehead, widening the link. I felt him entering my mind, an intimacy comparable to someone entering my body.

It was as if he were opening file cabinet drawers in my head. He was searching for specific information, and I was in no way prepared to deny him. “You lied!” he yelped. “This _is_ the first time we've met."

"I didn't lie. I said I knew who you were, and that's true."

I could feel him continue searching my mind, with his gaze intently fixed on me, his hands still cradling my head.  It was an incredibly intimate sensation, hard to describe in words.  "Technically, yes, you know who I am, but you don't… you don’t actually know me at all. You didn't even recognize me at first... and you let me kiss you! You kissed me back, even! You were going to... And the things I said!" The Doctor's expression matched the embarrassed regret I felt in his mind. "Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

I blinked, trying to collect thoughts into words, but he felt it before I could say it. "Oh." His tone became gentle, and his embarrassment faded into amusement. "Silly, stupid, gorgeous girl. So human, to be so concerned about what a stranger thinks of you."

I tried to focus on his thoughts, but he closed his eyes and I felt a mental wall go up. It wasn’t a perfect wall, though. I could feel things bleeding through, like listening to a staticky radio station. I knew there was something there, but I couldn't quite make out the pattern. So I asked, "We have a relationship, in my future, don't we?"

That brought up a flash of emotion that he couldn't repress quick enough - of him on top of me, inside of me - but it cut off immediately as he lurched backwards out of my grasp. "No! No. I mean, yes, we... might eventually end up in some sort of a relationship. Perhaps." He glanced around the room, twiddling restless fingers. "But who knows what the future might bring."

Of course, that just pissed me off. "Doctor, don't patronize me. I'm not stupid."

He stilled and made a sheepish face.  "Sorry. You're right. It's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

I nodded. It's normally hard for me to be open with people, unless I'm drunk, but it's easy to be open with someone who can literally read your mind. So I told him straight up, "I don't think it's silly or stupid to worry about wrecking things on the first day."

He replied, "The first day for you, silly girl." He smiled at me, but it was a sad smile. "If anyone should be worried about wrecking things, it's me. I have quite a track record."

"You were saying." I smiled back at him. "But I don't think you're as bad as all that."

His smile faded. "You don't know me yet."

"But I'd like to." I leaned into him briefly, and his arm snaked around me to hold me there, close against him. He looked down at me with an unsure expression. I reached up to touch his face again, and then I could feel his uncertainty, with not just a little self-loathing. I continued, "Especially if you're as good with the rest of it as you are with your hands."

I expected him to laugh, but he just reached out to touch my cheek. Desire and anticipation flooded me. I wasn't sure how much was his or mine. He said softly, "You still want to..."

“Is it risky?”

The Doctor let out a soft chuckle.  “No, dear. I’m clean.  And my gametes are... let’s say as a ‘long story short,’ fundamentally incompatible with yours.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, his fingertips gently tracing my cheek. S immering underneath his calm explanation was a swirl of desire, anticipation, need, longing. And a question.   _Do you want to?_

Out loud, I said, "If you do."

"Yes," he said, barely a whisper.

"Yes," I repeated. He leaned in to press his forehead to mine, searching again, but not for long. Then he kissed me, this time very sweet, drawing it out. Then he kissed my cheek, and then my earlobe, his face nestled against mine.

"Gorgeous, brilliant woman," he breathed, his lips against my ear. One of his hands tangled in my hair, the other caressing my neck, grazing my skin. "Breathtaking. Beautiful." I ached with desire, and I didn't know if it was coming from him or me, but that didn't matter anymore because his hand had reached my breasts again. His lips covered mine, and I kissed him back passionately.

Then I felt him smile against my lips, and a hint of confident amusement crept in through the psychic link as he guided me to lie down - one hand at the back of my head, and the other one shifting my hips with surprising strength for such a scrawny-looking man. He adjusted his body as he lay me down, and I could feel how hard he was against me, and the pleasure that he felt from the pressure, and then his hands grasping towards my thighs, fingers moving constantly.

When his probing fingertips found the right spot, I inhaled sharply. "Oh, yes," he sighed against my cheek, our foreheads touching, his clever fingertips applying pressure through my pajamas, slow and gentle and _just right_. "That's my girl," he purred. "You do like that, don't you?"

"Yes," I gasped. In one quick movement, he slipped his hand underneath my clothing to press his fingers into me.

“‘Course you do, you sexy thing. And before morning, I'm going to have you screaming my name." His fingers kept up the slow, steady pace, and on top of the mounting pleasure I could feel him aching for me, his desire building as he felt my body responding. "No, not screaming, because you're going to be breathless and gasping. I am not going to stop until you've forgotten my name, and your own, until the only thought in your mind is utter earth-shattering pleasure."

"I think we're a little overdressed," I managed.

"Quite right." His fingers stilled, and he shifted to look me in the eye. "Quickly now."

He winked, and then was off me in a flash, his quick hands pulling at his bowtie, braces, and buttons. I threw off my shirt, wriggled out of my pants, and then he was there, already naked somehow, pulling my legs around him and pushing me onto my back again. He slid between my lips but not yet inside of me.  It felt amazing... but it was nothing at all compared to when he lowered his weight onto me, his arms pulling our bodies tightly together, and his temple pressed to mine.

The rush of sensation flooded into me through the psychic link: not only could I feel everything he was feeling, my own pleasure echoed in his mind, the combined sensations reverberating between us. I could feel every tiny movement from both my perspective and his, at the same time, amplified many times over. It's... indescribable.

When he entered me, we would have lost it right then if it weren't for the Doctor's enormous restraint. I could feel him holding back, and just before the tipping point he stopped and actually _shushed_ me, holding my body completely still against his with a crushing pressure. The intensity receded in gentle waves and troughs, like the tide going out.

His hold on me relaxed just enough so that I could squirm against him. "Not so fast, you scrumptious beauty," he muttered against my throat. "I want your first time to be amazing."

"It already is," I whispered.  He flushed at the sound of my voice and began to move deliberately, slowly.  He made minute adjustments with each stroke, his face contorted with the effort of restraining himself.  As we got closer he buried his face in my neck just below my ear. One of his hands moved up to my hair while the other crept down my body, his fingers seeking me out... and the lightest touch in just the right spot was all I could take. It was the most intense orgasm I'd ever had in my life, both of us _feeling_ me clenching around him while he pulsed into me.

We came down together, slowly. His grip on me relaxed, but his arms stayed around me, his head settling between my breasts.

Ever so slowly, the sadness within him crept back.

After what felt like the longest time, the Doctor murmured against my chest, "I can hear your heart beat. One heart." He sighed. "One single, incredible human heart." It felt like his own heart was breaking. I ran my fingers through his hair and projected loving thoughts through the psychic link as best I could.  I’m not sure how successful I was back in the early days, but I hope I brought him some comfort.

His thoughts receded as he looked up at me and said, "But here I am being selfish. You have questions."

It was a little sudden, but after a second, I realized, "Yeah... yeah I do.  How are we-"

"- reading each others' minds?" He smiled faintly, and I almost glimpsed a memory of myself before he shifted his weight from my body. His head no longer pressed against mine, the connection lessened, though I could still feel vague fondness. "Time Lords are naturally psychic, to a certain extent - and the TARDIS is much more so. She generates a psychic field, actually. Seems to come along with exposure to the time vortex, and my old girl is infused with it."

"Uh... huh."

"For most humans, the telepathic circuits only really function as a translator. Sometimes a little bit more. Well, sometimes a lot more, with a bit of effort and the right... anyway, that's not important. What's important is that you... you're _special_." As he said the last word I felt a twinge of mixed emotions, but he didn't pause long enough to let me untangle them. "The energy produced by your brainwaves creates a resonation pattern within the TARDIS's psychic field that feeds into my own telepathic interface.  The energy reflects back and forth between your mind and mine and amplifies it. Sort of like a laser. But actually, nothing like a laser. You're not a physicist anyway, are you – so it doesn't even help." I realized that he could probably feel my confusion, as well as I could feel his gentle frustration. "Err... imagine a-"

"Basically, the TARDIS links our minds up."

"Through a resonation pattern in the psychic field, that only works for you. Because you're special."

I flushed a bit, and I suppose the Doctor could feel my awkwardness with the compliment, because his hands snaked back up to gently press against my temples. Suddenly I felt a rush of love pouring into my head, and I closed my eyes as the Doctor said "You don't believe you are, yet. But you absolutely are special. Never forget that."

"I..." Normally it's difficult for me to accept compliments, but the emotions he was sending through my mind were sublime. "I won't." I said. And, "Thank you."

The feeling faded as the Doctor slowly disentangled himself from me and sat up. "Any other questions?"

“Hmm.  I guess I should get to know you a little better, since we’re apparently sleeping together.”  He turned to me with a defensive look on his face, then saw my smile.  I stretched out, resting my calves on the Doctor's thighs.  “Let's start with the cliches.  What’s your favorite color?”

He smiled.  “I’ll tell you later.”  He began massaging my feet.  The psychic link was a shadow of what it was when our heads were pressed together, but I could still vaguely feel the outline of his emotions.  This line of questioning was amusing him.

"Later?"

"Later for you."

It clicked in my head.  "Oh.  But earlier for you."

"Right.  And if I answer you now, you won't think to ask me then."

"That's weird."  I paused as his fingers dug pleasantly into a tense spot on my foot.  "Can I keep asking you questions?"

"You can, but I might not answer them."

"That's alright."  I thought for a moment.  “Favorite book?"

 “Later.”

“Favorite music?”

"Later."  His amusement was growing with each question I asked.

I stopped to think of something I might not typically ask.  "If you could be any kind of tree..."  He started laughing before I could finish the question.

"You will never, ever change," he said, grinning.

I smiled back, then thought of something I really did want to know about.  "You know my Auntie Em," I said.

The amusement was gone in a flash, replaced with a low humming tension.  He lifted my feet gently from his lap and took his hands away before answering.    "That's not a question."

I suddenly felt as naked as I was. Still, I pressed on. "Okay... do you know my Auntie Em?"

"Yes."

I sat up next to him, careful not to touch, though I wondered why he didn’t want me hearing his thoughts.

"How long did she travel with you?"

A strange expression passed across the Doctor's face. "That's a complicated question. I'm a time traveler, I don't exactly have a calendar on the wall of my TARDIS."

“Is it true that—”

“Stop,” the Doctor cut me off, “not another word.  No specifics.  Whatever it is you think you know, it might be in my future, and I don’t want to hear about it.”

Hearing that was upsetting to me. I didn't understand. So I started to get up, to collect up my clothes, but he caught me by the wrist before I could get very far. I stopped still, feeling the tension within him. “This is important," he said. The Doctor brought me to sit close beside him. I could feel how gravely serious he was. “No specifics," he insisted.  "No details.  Not till you hear them from me.  And even then, you mustn’t mention anything I tell you about my travels.  It could destroy my life – it could kill people.”  He squeezed my hand.  “Please," he said. "I need to trust you on this.  Don’t let me down.”

Then he plucked his hand from mine, and folded it into his lap.  I thought for a few seconds, but most of my questions were about specifics.  "Did you visit me because of her?"

The Doctor hesitated, then, "Yes." He steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips, glancing down at me.  “Sort of.”

"Are you going to take me along with you, to see time and space like she did?"

The Doctor's face shifted quickly through a series of puzzling contortions. "No," he finally said, glancing at me, then at the floor. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" The silence was uncomfortable as the Doctor glanced around the room, biting his lip. "Doctor... this is like pulling teeth. Just tell me."

Finally, he looked at me. "I'm sorry, I really am. There's a lot I can't tell you right now.”  He opened his mouth, hesitated, then began speaking very cautiously.  “One day, I will offer.  All of time and space.  You and me.”  He cut himself short, then took my hand again. I could feel a strange mix of conflicting emotions that I didn’t understand.

“I’m sure it will be amazing,” I said, and I began to smile.  The smile faded as the incomprehensible conflict within him grew.  “Right?”

The Doctor suddenly became inscrutable, erecting a mental barrier.  It was a strange sensation.  “You should talk to your aunt about it.  See what she has to say.”  I rolled my eyes at that, but he insisted.  “I didn’t trust her either, before I really knew who she was.  You don’t have to do what she says… but at least hear her out.”

He straightened up, his tone suddenly light and conversational. "No more questions, not tonight. Shall we go to bed?"

Sleeping in the same bed with my ex, the one before the Doctor, was always a little uncomfortable. We’d try to cuddle up, but then one or the other of us would have an itch, or a limb would fall asleep, or whatever, so we often ended up barely touching at bedtime.

I don't know if it was because the Doctor was different, or because of the psychic link, but his body fit against mine in bed perfectly. Comfortably. We nestled into each other, and it just... fit.

When I awoke, the Doctor was already gone.


	3. Meeting Aunt Em

When I woke up in the morning, I found that the Doctor had altered my wall calendar. There was a post-it note on the previous date that read only, “Keep track.” Underlined. I had to think about it for a second before I found a pen and marked an X. I spent the rest of day reeling in a daze, reviewing the previous night in my head. I needed to tell someone, but only one person on Earth would have believed a word of it. By a lucky coincidence – actually, more likely because of the foreknowledge of time-travel – that person knocked on my door that very night.

I didn't see my aunt very often. She always dropped in out of the blue like she did that day. She looked up from tucking something into her purse as I opened the door, then beamed wide and extended her arms for a big, familial hug. "Hello, sweetie! My how you've grown!" She said that every time she saw me. As a kid it irritated me, but as an adult it just made me smile.

I buried my face in her frizzy hair and felt like a little kid again for a moment. "Hiya Auntie Em. I've missed you, too." I invited her in, and when she asked how I was doing, I immediately started rambling about the Doctor's visit. I gave her an abridged version of what I've been telling you, leaving out some of the more... intimate details. She listened attentively, smiling the whole time.

I didn't think anything of it then, but looking back, she didn’t have any of her usual snarky comments. I realize now that she must have already known everything I was telling her. Time travel. Oy.

As I was winding down, I asked her, "How much of the stories you told me are true? I mean... I've seen the TARDIS, but... everything you told me is impossible!"

She laughed. "That's a perfect word to describe the Doctor. Impossible."

"Did he really save Gramma from a robot version of herself?"

"He did."

"And break you out of an orphanage, after what's-her-face, the one with the eyepatch kidnapped you?"

"That too."

"Did he really stop time to marry you?"

"That was mostly me, but yes." Her eyes glimmered, and she smiled at the memory.

"But... statues can't really come to life, can they?"

She laughed again. "All of it is absolutely true!" She reached for her purse and began to rummage in it. "I don't have time to go through all of the stories over again for you; we'd be here for days. But I do have something that might settle your mind.” She hesitated, then closed her purse. “I’ll bring it with me the next time I visit.”

“I want to go with him,” I asserted.

Aunt Em almost winced at that. “But you didn’t.”

“He didn’t want to take me.” I thought about his conflicted response. “He said… I should ask you what you thought.”

I knew she wasn’t going to like the idea. But she surprised me by asking, “How did it feel, to touch the TARDIS?”

“Like I said, intense.”

“Pleasant?” She eyed me pointedly.

“No. Definitely not.”

“There’s a reason for that, you know,” Aunt Em said. She studied my face for a long while before she said, “I don’t think traveling with the Doctor would be a good idea.” I must’ve made a face, because she continued, “I’m only worried about your safety, dear. But I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal. You can go with the Doctor, if you want, but the first time you travel with him, I want to be there.” I started to complain, but she cut me off. “I need to know you’ll be okay! The Doctor is dangerous enough on his own, you know that… and I don’t trust that the TARDIS won’t, I don’t know, burn your mind out. The time vortex isn’t something to be trifled with.”

She stared at me expectantly until I sighed a grudging, “Okay.”

“Okay isn’t good enough. I need you to promise.”

“Aunt Em…”

“Promise!” Her eyes bored into me, her mouth a thin line.

I cracked under her stare. “Okay! I promise.”

“He can come get me, it shouldn’t be difficult.”

“I already promised,” I huffed.

“I know.” Aunt Em looked at me thoughtfully.

When she hugged me goodbye that evening, she murmured “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

She hesitated. “For keeping your word. I trust you,” she said… which meant that now I had to live up to that trust.

Great.


	4. Impossibly Boring

He visited me about once a week after that. Always more or less a brief visit, and always at night. My memories of that time kind of bleed together, because he followed a set routine. He’d show up in my bedroom. If I was already in bed, he’d jump right in and start going to town. Actually, he’d do that pretty much no matter what I was doing. Then we’d cuddle up and he’d tell me about the latest ridiculous situations he got himself into. Meeting Laurel and Hardy, and ending up in one of their films. Escaping the Tower of London in a hot air balloon. Stories upon stories, including a lot of spacey-wacey stuff that I didn’t really understand.

It was the highlight of my week when he showed up. I’m not proud of that, but it’s the truth. It kept me going when there wasn’t much else.

Back in those days, he’d always be gone by morning. He never asked me to travel with him, either. But about three months in, when I started meeting younger versions of him, is when things started going all to hell.

I first realized something was different just after he arrived, because he didn’t rush over like he usually did. This time he stopped short of where I was sitting, and rocked back on his heels a little. I stood up and embraced him, then leaned up for a kiss… and he almost flinched, startled at the affection.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. His hands were resting lightly on my hips. Standoffish, projecting casual but feeling… something else. Weird, maybe, is the best word to describe it. Feeling weird.

That’s what I asked him, “Why are you being so weird? Usually, you’re…”

"Stop.” He cut me off, stepping away. “Stop right there, not another word. I've had quite enough foreknowledge and my life is complicated enough without more of it. Whatever we've been through, when we're together now, I want you to wall it off. Don't talk about it, don't mention it, don't even think about it. If it comes up in your mind, imagine a door in front of it, and close it. Forgetting it would be even better, but... I've had quite enough of that, as well."

His brow furrowed. "You should know this. Why don't you know this - when is this, for you? Wait, no, don't tell me." He smacked himself in the head. "Stupid question. Must be relatively early, though. That's fine, not a problem; I suppose it's relatively early for me too.” He paused to grin widely. “Look at us - getting to know each other. Though the... intimacy is a little surprising. Is this all we ever do?"

"I don't understand."

"'Course you don't. Another daft woman meeting me the wrong way about. Think about it."

"I... Oh." Of course. It seems so obvious now, but given how familiar the Doctor was becoming to me, it was a shock to realize that I knew things that the Doctor didn't... or that I might have been further along in the relationship than he was. "So, from your perspective, have we...?" I trailed off, taking his hand. I closed my eyes again and remembered - his face contorting, his body tensing.

"Yes, we've done... that. The last time I was here." He squeezed my hand and glanced at me, and I could feel a strange tangle of emotions from him. Desire, yes, but also hesitation. Trepidation.

"Was it... bad?"

"No! No, not at all. Quite the opposite." A flash of memory trickled through: looking up at me at the moment of climax, feeling something akin to wonder. The memory snapped off suddenly as he took his hand out of mine. "But that's not why I came here."

"Why did you come here, then?" I asked.

"Because, your life is boring." I think I made a face at him, because he shrugged at me. "You're the one who said it! Guaranteed boring. And you're right, it is." He looked around my apartment, his upper lip curling slightly in a grimace. "Completely and utterly boring."

I was getting irritated now. "Doctor, what-"

"And that's strange; it's not right. Because look at you, you're brilliant! You should be out discovering things, charming people, having adventures. But instead you're... here. Being boring."

"I'm not sure if you're trying to compliment me or insult me."

"You don't understand - you're an anomaly. Something isn't right here, and I can't quite put my finger on it." He took out his sonic screwdriver, buzzed it about the room, then checked it. "Just like always, everything seems normal. Boring, old, normal."

"Okay."

"But we can fix that!" A gleam came into his eyes, and he rocked on his heels very slightly. "You can come with me."

"What?"

"Time and space, what do you say? Come with me." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I'm sure my incredulity was obvious. He took in my face, and began to try and persuade me. "One trip - we'll even make it a quick one – and if you don’t like it, I’ll bring you right back home again.” He leaned into me and his eyes glinted. “I bet you’ll want to stay, though.” He spun around, becoming animated. “Ever wanted to walk on the moon? We can watch Neil Armstrong take his first step, and then pop over to the dark side and try it ourselves." He glanced at my face. "No? We can go further back, take a peek at what the dinosaurs really looked like. Ever wondered how accurate the picture books were?" He stepped closer to me, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just between you and me, I think leaving out all the feathers was in rather poor taste." He winked, then whirled around me. "Or what about the future? We can take a trip to the 51st century and see the human empire at its peak. Or any other empire, for that matter. A billion billion worlds - all of history and more." He dramatically swept my blinds open, revealing the night sky. "Pick a star. Any star." He spun to face me, looking smug.

"Doctor...” I thought about the intensity of the sensations I experienced just touching the side of the blue box. I thought about my promise to my aunt, and the Doctor’s own reluctance to take me along. How it'd been months since he last asked me. “I shouldn't."

"Why." The word was clipped short, his eyes scrutinizing, smile fading fast.

"I..." I thought then of what he said just a few minutes earlier, and imagined a door closing on my memories. "I'm just not feeling up for it. Not yet."

"Not yet?" His gaze searched my face, which I tried to keep still as possible.

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

I gave him the short version, saying, "I promised my aunt I wouldn't."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at me. "Is that so?" When I nodded, he pressed on. "Okay. Well. I can keep a secret if you can."

"Doctor, no," I said, exasperated, "I'm not going to lie to my aunt."

"But-"

"Consider this me closing a door on this conversation," I said, harsher than I'd wanted to be.

The Doctor huffed. "Right. Then. I should be off."

"What?" This took me aback. Rejection was not something I’d expected from him, not considering all of our previous interactions.

"Time waits for no man," he said, straightening his bowtie, and opened his mouth to say something else... but then he saw my face.

When he paused, I jumped for what I saw as my one chance to say, "Don't. Don't leave." I reached for his hand, so he could feel what I was feeling. "Don't leave, please." I was begging him, and he just eyed me with a mixture of suspicion and pity, so very different from the man that I had come to know.

The something in him shifted. He took my hand in both of his and kissed it, and I could feel his determination melting. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at my hands, then at my face. He considered me for a moment, then drew me close for a long hug. His face pressed into my hair, I could feel layers of emotion: regret sweeping over deep frustration, and underneath it all was a low desire, heightened by my closeness. "Now I'm being the daft one," he murmured.

I clung to him, my hands finding the familiar curve of his back. "It's okay. It's just... I do look forward to seeing you. I'd like to come with you, I’d love to have adventures, and to be with you. But I just can't right now. It's too much."

He pulled back from the embrace slightly, looked at my face intently. "You don't even know why yet, do you?"

There was something profound in that phrasing, as if there was a Big Why that I was somehow missing. I hesitated, then shook my head slowly. "Don't you?"

"No. Should I?"

"I don't know."

At that, his brow furrowed, and his gaze became intense, flickering across my face, his hands clamped on my shoulders. "This _is_ early; in fact. This is earlier than I've ever seen you."

"I know the feeling," I said. "I'm pretty sure this is the earliest I've seen you." I figured that much was OK to say, since he said it first.

A crooked smile broke across his face. "You mean to tell me that both of our pasts are in the other's future?" I didn't know what else to do, so I shrugged, and a laugh burst from his lips. "Neither of us have the faintest clue what's going on, do we?"

"I have no idea." He laughed again at that, and hugged me tight.

"Time travel! Ah," he said as he squeezed me, "what a lark."

Acting more out of habit than conscious thought, I leaned into his embrace with my whole body, nuzzling a sensitive spot at the crook of his neck. I felt desire spike through him, echoing in my own body, which responded immediately. But then he tensed against me, both physically and emotionally. "I'm not sure that’s a good idea."

"Why do you think that, all of a sudden?"

"We've been over this."

“Go over it once more for me. I'm daft, remember?"

I felt his inner struggle fade, replaced with amused resignation. His arms settled comfortably around my waist, and he decided to humor me.

"Well, first, I'm nine hundred years old. I'm old enough to be your ancestor, which has to be at least twice as creepy as a grandpa."

"Doesn't bother me in the slightest. I like experienced men." I squirmed a little closer to him, causing a brief wave of arousal tempered by his immense restraint.

He moved his hands to rub my back gently. "There's also the fact that I don't age. And I don't settle down. I keep traveling." He pressed his lips to the top of my head briefly, recalling a redhead that he’d once told a similar excuse. "You could come with me— no, I know, you're set against it. And even if you wanted to come, traveling with me has its own problems." A sweet sadness welled up within him. "So you'd be stuck waiting here for me to drop in. Not knowing when I'll show up, or where I'll be in my timeline. And in the best case scenario, I get to watch you die of old age."

I pressed close to him, feeling a sort of pity. "You must get so lonely." He didn't answer, but nestled against my hair, widening the psychic link. He was indeed so very lonely, and got lonelier each year as companions flitted in and out of his life too quickly. I flooded my mind with comfort and peace and let my hands graze across his back. "I get lonely too. I don't think I was ever as lonely as the night you first visited me. Now I have something to look forward to: the next time the Doctor comes calling."

I felt a crushing anguish rise within him, competing thoughts bleeding through:  
_One day, I'll stop coming, and you'll be alone._  
_One day, you'll die, and it’ll be all my fault._

So I quickly continued "It's not like that. Doctor, all things have an end. Even relationships. The fact that it will someday end... that doesn't mean it's not worth beginning. It doesn't mean you should cut it short." I squeezed him tight for an instant. "Doctor, if you're lonely, let me be company."

He pulled back slightly to look at my face, the anguish replaced with mixed emotions. A confusing, conflicted jumble of positive and negative, attraction and restraint and the urge to run far away, and so much more. I reached out to graze his cheek, and he closed his eyes and leaned into my caress. Such a simple, familiar gesture. It felt like coming home.

Then I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He startled slightly, and I half expected him to pull away. Instead after a moment’s hesitation he turned into me and kissed me back, his tongue tentatively exploring my mouth. His hands went all fiddly, tracing along my arms up to my hair, down to my waist then around my back, and his mind began to race. I could definitely tell it was early for him from the nervous uncertainty that almost overpowered his desire for me.

When the kiss broke, he didn't move away from me. He still held my body close, our lips almost touching, gazing down into my eyes. His breathing was faster than usual, and I could feel his restraint falling away. "Doctor, shall we take this to bed?"

He blinked rapidly, glanced away, scratched his face. I ran my fingertips from the base of his neck down his back, let the silence between us grow as he wrestled with the idea. After a long moment, he sighed. "Oh, alright. But this is a very, very bad idea."

Unlike the other times he'd visited, he was hesitant to undress in front of me. I didn't realize it at first, and I stripped down for bed without thinking about it. When I turned around he was staring with wide eyes and mouth ajar.

"Come on, Doctor," I said, lying back on the bed. "I know you don't sleep in your braces and bow tie."

He somehow managed to completely undress without once taking his eyes off me. I remember the intensity in his eyes was almost tangible, my skin tingling as he stared at me. I felt surprisingly uninhibited, unashamed. Normally I'm kind of self-conscious, I'd want to turn off the light and hide my flaws. Something about the naked desire in the Doctor's expressive face made me forget that I had flaws.

He made a small show of getting situated in bed. I didn't want to push him too hard, so I let him make the first move, which turned out to be surprisingly tender.

He gently slid one arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. His strength still surprised me - but now instead of grasping me to him or maneuvering me into position, he shifted my body tenderly. His other hand brushed against my face, his fingertips working into my hair. I grazed my fingertips up and down his back, and let him lean in to kiss me first.

Instead of instantly seeking out my erogenous zones, he explored my body with a light touch. His fingers spread wide, he traced circular patterns over my skin, all the while glancing down over my body. I felt him probing through the psychic link, gauging my responses.

He lingered over my body like this for quite a while, and I languished in the sweetness of his attention. I let one of my hands slowly trace a path towards his hipbone, where I hesitated, letting his anticipation build. After a few long seconds I gave him a single light stroke, caressing the length of him. The rush of sudden sensation was intense for both of us. He faltered briefly in his exploration. Then he smiled crookedly at me, his eyes still burning intensely. "Minx."

"Trickster," I called him, smiling back. I was always a little proud of myself when I shook his restraint, even if just for a moment. I began to stroke him with a practiced hand, but I could feel him steeling himself for it, distancing himself by focusing on my body. One of his hands dipped lower, and when he found me already soaked, a small growling noise escaped him. Pleasure reverberated through both of us, but it was shot through with the Doctor's steely restraint.

I kissed his lips, his cheek, right below his ear, then his neck, then back up again. I was ready to have him inside of me, but he stopped me before I could mount him. "No," he said, taking a breath. "I want to be on top this time."

So far the Doctor pretty much always _had_ been on top. So I made a mental note and let him push me back. He held his body above mine, looking down into my face. I could feel him hesitating just at my entrance. I touched his cheek, and felt his thoughts: uncertain, worried about losing control, wanting it so badly.

"Doctor," I said, sliding my arms over his shoulders, "you can let go." I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him into me. We shuddered together as he was fully enveloped, the entire length of his body pressing against mine, our legs intertwining.

Instead of hard thrusting, he rocked sweetly into me. The slow, gentle movements were no less intense, especially as he found the right angle to grind against me, our bodies barely separating.

The pace stayed slow, but our gasps got louder, our breathing faster, and we clung so tightly to each other. I remember his fingers digging into my back and my hair, my cheek pressed against his so tightly. I could feel his ragged breath against my throat. We climbed up and up to a mind-shattering climax that echoed for what felt like forever through the psychic link.

Ages later, he shifted to rest his head against my shoulder, his hands slipping around my waist. I let my hand come to rest on his neck. His hearts beat in a pattern of four against my palm. We fell asleep just like that, entwined in post-coital contentment.

I woke up in the morning to the sound of the kitchen timer going off. The TARDIS was still there – a pleasant surprise. I shrugged on a robe and left my bedroom to find the Doctor in my kitchen, fully dressed. It smelled like cinnamon and delicious.

"What are you doing?" I asked, half-awake.

He ducked down behind the counter and popped back up again, grinning widely and holding a baking pan, wearing my oven mitts. "I made us breakfast!" He plopped the pan down on the stove. "Scones!"

"Sure, but... wait, scones?"

"Right, well I noticed you didn't have really any breakfast food here besides boxed cereal, which..." He made a face. "So! I ran to the grocer's and picked up some things." He smelled the air, then made a satisfied noise.

Quicker than I was quite ready for, he slid an scone onto a plate in front of me with a glass of milk alongside. I looked down at this, then looked up at the Doctor, who was smiling at me expectantly.

"This is great." I took a bite of the scone, then a sip of milk. "Mmm. Really great. But why'd you stick around this time?"

"I always stick around - making breakfast is the polite thing to do after spending the night. Isn't it?"

I nodded, my mouth full of baked goods, wondering whether this is something he'd do much in my future, and what made him stop.

"Good! Right then, while you're eating breakfast, I might take a walk around the neighborhood," he said, breezing towards the door. "It's quite a lovely day out; once you've eaten and dressed you should join me." He swept outside, closing the door behind him.

Scone in hand, I poked around my kitchen. Two loaves of bread sat on my counter - one light brown, the other dark. Both were still warm. My cupboards were full of dry goods: flour, sugar, even granola. Inside the fridge were several surprisingly good cuts of meat wrapped in waxed paper, plus fruit and vegetables in woven baskets. The milk was in a real glass bottle.

I was a little floored. In my college days, my grocery purchases involved a lot of off-brand prepackaged stuff. This was beyond my expectations.

I took a shower and threw on a dress, and was in the middle of marking my calendar when he burst back into my apartment. He slammed the door shut behind him and slammed his back into the door, locking it with his sonic screwdriver. It took him a second to realize that no one was pounding at the door, actually. He looked down at his hand and seemed to catch himself, then he rushed to the window, cracked the blinds, took a peek. He glanced down at his hand, then back out the window. Then he rushed to me, put his hands on my shoulders. "You're okay. Good. Okay. You're okay."

He glanced at his hand again, and his eyes went wide. “Oh no.” He glanced around the apartment wide-eyed, then rushed back to the window to look out again.

"Doctor, what-"

"Nothing, nothing at all. He held up his hand, then looked out the window again. "Tell me, is there anything you can't remember?"

"What?"

"Anything you-" he seemed to realize what he was saying as he was saying it. "Oh. Right." He looked back down at his hand, then raced to my door to look out of the peephole. "Missing time? Have you ever experienced missing time?"

"I have no idea, Doctor. What are you going on about?"

"Have you ever taken a drive where you arrive with no memory of the trip? Or a class where you don't remember learning a thing? Or waking up from a nap that you don't remember lying down to take. Have any of those things happened to you?"

"Yes, of course; Doctor, those things happen to everyone."

"Some more than others." His gaze was fixed, looking at something through my blinds, his voice deadly serious all of a sudden. He fished in his pocket for something, took out a black crayon, and started slowly making marks on the back of his hand. "I see you," he muttered.

Then he turned to look at me, and his expression changed. He smiled and stepped towards me, but then he looked down as if just discovering what he was holding. He stared at his hands for a few seconds before sighing deeply. "What was I just talking about?"

"You asked if I've ever experienced missing time."

"And have you?"

"Sort of. I don't know."

"Right. Well. I have to be off." He moved as if to stride past me, but I reached out for his arm as he started to walk by. His concern washed over me, a profound concern, but no distinct mental images that I can remember. He paused and turned towards me, our eyes meeting. Deep worry lines creased his forehead. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry. There might be a knock at your door. Don't answer it. Don't even look to see who's knocking. Keep that door locked, and stay away from it." _Not that it will stop them, if they really want to get in_ , he thought.

Overhearing that thought, combined with the intensity rumbling through the psychic link, sent a deep chill through me. The Doctor turned sharply towards me, no doubt feeling my terror. He pressed his lips to my forehead. "I promise, you'll be safe. If anything happens to you, I’ll find you. You're going to keep on living this boring life until you're old and grey, eh?" He smiled, then drew me in for a hug.

Then there was a knock at my door. We both tensed. The Doctor glanced at my front door, then towards my bedroom, then turned his gaze back to me. "I might need to be away for a while," he said quietly. Then he was off, tearing towards the TARDIS. After she took off, I was alone.

The knocking came again. I don't really remember how long it lasted. Eventually it stopped. But for the rest of the night, I felt queasy and unsettled. I slept with a light on that night.


	5. Foreshadowing

The next afternoon, when a knock came at my door, I froze. Was it whoever scared the Doctor off the night before? Should I check the peephole? But then she said "Hello?" and I recognized the voice of my Auntie Em.

I rushed to open the door and hurried her inside. Once the door was locked, I asked her what was burning on my mind: “Are you here because of the knocking?” She wasn’t, but her eyes went wide when I explained what had happened.

When I asked her what she thought, she sat silent for a long moment. I know now that she was not only struggling to avoid giving me spoilers, but also trying hard to remember what had happened herself. At the time, it just seemed like she didn’t want to tell me, which aggravated me to no end.

When Aunt Em dug out her diary, she said it would explain everything, but again, I just thought she was dodging my question. What really shook me was what she said as she handed it over. Very solemnly, more serious than I’d ever heard her, she said, "This is my single most important possession."

I took it reluctantly. It was thick, worn a little at the edges but still sturdy. As I opened it, my aunt’s tone got lighter. "The ordering system gets a little confusing,” she said, “but you'll figure it out. I think you'll be surprised to find out how much of your childhood fairy tales are real."

I flipped through the pages, scanning my aunt's longhand writing. Some pages even had detailed pictures. I recognized the Doctor's face in one or two of them. My curiosity was overriding my irritation with her, so I thanked her.

That irritation came flooding back when she started giving me conditions. I wasn’t allowed to copy anything down. I wasn’t allowed to talk about it with anyone else. And finally, with emphasis, "You mustn’t let the Doctor see that book."

"Why not?"

Aunt Em’s expression clouded. "He and I... we're not always on the same page. In the early days he didn’t always trust me. And to be honest, he was right not to, at least when I was younger. If he sees that you have this book, he might not trust you either."

“Maybe you should take it back, then,” I snapped.

Aunt Em’s eyes flashed. “I thought you wanted an explanation,” she said pointedly.

That really set me off. “I do,” I said. “In fact, I could do with an explanation for everything. Starting with why you sent him to visit me in the first place. You and him both have been mighty fuzzy on that point, and I’m sick of it.”

Her reaction was the opposite of what I expected. Instead of fighting back, Auntie Em looked pained. "Oh, sweetie." She got up and came towards me, and I let her hug me. "It's a long story, but you'll find out. And... I'm sorry."

"It really kind of freaks me out when people apologize for things they haven't done yet." I was being a snot, and I’m not proud of that, but I felt so out of the loop and it wasn’t fair. The Doctor could be vague, whatever, but this was my Auntie Em, the only family I had, and now she was holding out on me too?

Auntie Em responded plainly, and I remember exactly what she said, to the word. "There are days in my life that I am not proud of at all." Then she looked at me, and I realized there were tears in her eyes. "And other days where I will never be prouder. Neither of us are ready for those stories quite yet."

I suddenly felt terrible, and terribly spooked. My aunt never cried - and it reminded me of what I saw from the TARDIS. I reeled myself in, and apologized.

And then out of the blue she said, "You know I love you very much, don't you?"

"Of course,” I told her, because it was true. And even though I was being bratty, I wasn’t so mean as to refuse to say, “I love you too."

She turned the conversation to lighter things, and when she found out about my stocked kitchen she insisted on cooking me dinner. She left not long after we ate, leaving her diary with me.

I immediately flipped it open and started reading, indulging my curiosity. I didn't put it down until I finished the entire thing. Then I flipped back through it and read it in the other order. The second read-through is when I noticed the missing pages. A chunk around the middle, and then another smaller segment at the end, cut clean out.

I didn’t make too much of it because there was so much to take in. If I didn't trust my Auntie Em so deeply - if there hadn't been tears in her eyes that night - I might not have believed it. Honestly, I'm still not sure if I believe every letter of it even still... living statues and headless monks and spaceships at Stonehenge... it seems too ridiculous to be true.

The Doctor was honest when he said he wasn't going to visit for a while. And Auntie Em was honest when she said she was going to visit again sooner rather than later. A week after that first visit, Auntie Em showed up again, this time with an armload of books and folders.

"Has the Doctor been back yet?" she asked, unloading the pile onto my dining table.

"No, not yet."

"Right. Not long though." She said, more to herself than me, sorting through her stuff, stacking and organizing.

"Not long until what?"

My voice was flat, serious. Maybe a little pissed off. Auntie Em looked up at me, apprehension clear in her face. "Spoilers." Before I could respond, she put an arm around my shoulders. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I can't talk about it, but I can try to prepare you for it." She hugged me, a big maternal bear-hug.

I squeezed back, but I was still peeved, the way you get at parents when they do something you can't stand "for your own good". The anger fizzled out as Auntie Em started an earnest, almost academic explanation about the Doctor through history, showing me photographs and flipping through her books. She talked about Time Lords and the Time War and Gallifrey and Daleks. Some of the pictures she showed me were clearly not of this world. Some of the books had publishing dates that were far in the future, or ones that didn’t make sense at all.

After expounding for at least an hour, probably closer to two, her lecture came to a gradual end. "Is there anything you want to ask me? I can't tell you quite everything yet, but if I can, I will."

I paused for a while, collecting my thoughts. Putting things together. It was hard to take in all at once. After a while, a thought settled in my head, so that's what I said: "Why me?"

Auntie Em smiled blankly - this time the facade was obvious. "It seems to run in the family," she quipped lightly.

My anger from earlier surged back - she wasn't taking me seriously, and it pissed me off. "I mean, ok, there's this brilliant, terrible man, last of his kind, traveling through time and space righting wrongs and saving people. But why visit me? There's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with my life. No one's ever tried to... I don't know, turn me into a cyberman, or exterminate me with a death ray, or anything like that. My life is boring - even he says it."

The blankness in Auntie Em's face faded, her eyes taking on a strange shine. "If he says that, he doesn't know what he's talking about." She fought for the right words, speaking at a measured pace. "And just because you have a 'boring' life by the Doctor's standards, it doesn't mean that nothing's wrong."

Something about the melancholy note in her voice made me remember how I felt that first night the Doctor visited me. In the pause after Auntie Em finished talking, looking at me with that sad smile, I remembered the aching loneliness that my previous relationship's absence had left in my life. How I'd sit alone in my apartment, sometimes for days if I didn't need to leave the house. Nights when I wouldn't be able to sleep, and mornings where I'd wake up crying for no real reason. I was still feeling a little prickly, so I didn't really want to share all this with my aunt. But it did cool me down a bit. "Yeah, I guess. But that all seems so minor in the grand scheme of things like... saving the world. Rebooting the universe. Stuff like that."

"Not to him. That's why the Doctor is different. He cares - even the most insignificant person is important to him." She caught herself, then leaned in, her eyes blazing. "And don't you for a second think that you're insignificant. You're important to me, too."

"I know, but you have to say that. You're family."

Auntie Em pressed her lips together. "Even if I weren't, you'd still be important."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I sat and watched Auntie Em's face, finding myself wishing for the psychic connection so I could make her understand what it was like in my head.

After a few moments passed, Auntie Em began to speak in a quiet, even tone, staring into middle space, as if she were talking to herself. "Rule one is rule one for a reason. What I say and do now will affect what you decide later. If I tell you now that you'll wear your blue jumper tomorrow, that will be on your mind when you're deciding how to dress. That knowledge itself can change the future. Knowing you, if I told you that, you'd choose something else just to spite me." She smiled at me. "As far as that goes, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I almost destroyed time itself to rebel against a destiny that someone else tried to impose on me."

"In time, you’ll be faced with a choice much like mine." Aunt Em’s face became serious, and she leaned towards me to take my hands in her own. "I trust you to make that choice, but I hope that you remember this conversation. I hope you remember, and I hope you think very carefully about what exactly you're choosing between."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you going to explain it to me?" Her silence was irrationally aggravating. I pulled my hands away. "No?” The only response was more silence. “Then you can stop lecturing me now," I said. I acted out of a rage I didn’t even understand, rage born in ignorance and fear. I pulled together the mess of papers, the strange books, the impossibly old pictures of things that haven't happened yet, into a messy heap. "You can take these-" I thumped the pile "-and go. I didn't ask for you to drop in out of nowhere, I don't need to be fixed, and I don't need you telling me what to do. Oh." I rushed across the room and grabbed her diary, whirling around to drop it on the pile. "There you go. Now you have everything that's yours. Just... leave me alone."

I sat back in my chair, folded my arms, and glared at her. I was fuming, but Auntie Em looked almost like she was about to cry. In my frustration and anger, I decided they were crocodile tears.

"I'm sorry," she said. I didn't respond.

On her way to the door, arms full of books, Aunt Em hesitated. Then she slid her diary from the top of the pile and set it on my coffee table, in front of my TV. "Keep the diary. For now."

"Take it. I don't want it."

But she didn't touch it. She left without saying much more than goodbye. I didn't want to think about it anymore, so... I didn't. I let that diary sit there right smack in the middle of my table, right in plain sight, and I went back to living my life.

You already know what happened next, don’t you?

Ugh.


	6. Crossed Lines

For the next few weeks, I went about my life as normally as possible. No one visited.  Some nights I missed the Doctor. Some nights I thought I was crazy, and I’d dreamed the whole thing up. Oh, and it was finals season too, so I kept busy with schoolwork.

I remember, because the Doctor showed up just after finals week ended. I was on my second bottle of celebratory wine, and I was in a pretty good mood, so as soon as I heard the TARDIS I rushed into my room. When he opened the door, I ran to him and gave him a huge hug.

"Doctor! I've missed you!" The words were coming out of my mouth before I could process what he was feeling. To my surprise, he was more confused and standoffish than he was pleased.

"Hello!" He patted my back. "Has it been a while?"

"Yes," I said, my voice muffled, my face pressed into his lapels. I tried to focus on how happy I was to see him, and I could feel him soften.

"It's good to see you too," he said. I was already pressed tight against him, and finally he wrapped his arms around me and let me linger there. I was getting better at feeling through his ever-conflicting emotions - he was discomfited, he wasn't expecting this kind of response from me, he was happier than he thought he'd be to see me... and simmering underneath all that, a warm familiar tingle of desire, the ache that always stirred when he felt the warmth of my body against his, magnified by my long absence. I realized it had probably been a longer absence for him than it was for me.

I disentangled myself and led him into the living room. "Would you like a glass of wine?" I sipped from my glass, then turned to him.

He took my glass from me, sniffed it, then made a face. "No, thank you. You enjoy that, though." As usual, he glanced at my wall calendar... then did a double-take. He stared for a minute, then snorted. As he turned back towards me, his gaze caught on my coffee table. "What is that?" He stalked over intently.

Of course. I’d left the diary there, not even thinking about it.

I stammered through the beginnings of an excuse, but it was already in his hands. He handled it, sniffed it… I think he even licked the cover. But he didn’t open it. “I know what it is! Of course, that’s how you... Oh, that impossible woman.” His lips tightened into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowing. “So you’ve read it, I gather.”

“Yes. I have.”

“So if I tell you that I recently left Berlin in 1938, you’ll know what that means.”

“Yeah. Aunt Em saved your life.”

“Killed me, first.”

“That too.”

I didn’t need the psychic link to see the anger building in the Doctor’s face. “And you think that’s something worth preserving, do you?” He looked up at me, and in two quick strides his face was inches from mine, ancient eyes burning with fury.  _The Oncoming Storm_ , I thought. “You think this is the way things should go, do you?”

He opened his mouth to say more, but then stopped himself, grabbing my head with both hands, scouring my mind. I tried to put up a barrier, but he blasted through it with an indescribable mental force. “It’s still in your future.  There’s still time.”

I tried to step away, but his hands held me in place.  “Doctor, stop.”

“Listen to me – you must listen.  What Ri- what your aunt told you is a lie.  Time can be rewritten.  You can prevent all of this – you can, you must.  When the chance comes, you must take it.”

He was in my head, burning through my memories of the conversation I shared with Auntie Em, and despite all mental efforts I couldn’t shut him out.  “Stop it!” I shouted, trying to pull away.  “Get off me, now!”

For a second, his rage was white-hot. He gritted his teeth, and his fingertips dug into my scalp painfully. “Ignorant, stupid girl,” he shouted into my face. He released my head with a wide, angry gesture, pushing me backwards a step.

I don’t know if it was transfer through the psychic link, or whether I really was just fed up with hearing nonsense about my future, but I was suddenly furious. “You know what? Fuck you! I never asked for you to come here. I never asked for any of this. I am sick of both of you appearing from out of nowhere and giving me shit for things I haven’t even done yet.”

While I was ranting, the Doctor was pacing my living room. When I finished, he flopped onto my couch. “Why won’t you just listen to me? No one ever listens to me!” he fumed loudly, the last few words rising almost to a scream, his hands flying to pull at his own hair. He buried his face in his hands as he raged, “This is _wrong_.” He propped himself against one elbow on the arm of the couch, kicking one leg out, face red.

“If you came here to throw a tantrum, you can get out of my apartment,” I said. He didn’t respond right away; he just sat fuming on my couch, glaring off to one side, pointedly facing away from me. I stormed into his line of sight. “Seriously. This is bullshit. Cut it the fuck out, or get out of my place.”

He huffed. “She’s poisoned the well for me, I see.  And now you’re going to be contrary no matter what I say – there’s nothing I can do, is there?”  He popped up from my couch and got right in my face, his voice falling to a low, serious growl. “Do you really want me to leave? Because I can, right now – I can turn around and disappear from your life forever. Is that what you want?”

“No, I want you to stop treating me like a child, and shut up about my future, but if you can’t do that, then fine. Go.”

We stared at each other for a long, tense moment.

The Doctor broke first, enveloping me in a sudden hug. He wasn’t angry, not really – just intensely frustrated, a feeling of resentful powerlessness that was too easy to channel at me, and he was filled with regret for it. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it deeply. His hands groped in my hair, his lips grazing my forehead before pulling me against his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

It was hard to stay mad at him, feeling his regret, accompanied by the quiet self-directed disappointment that lurked in his mind during every visit. “It’s okay, just… Jesus Christ.”

“I know.” He rocked me in his arms gently. “Believe me, I know.” I saw Auntie Em’s face in his mind, in a series of memory flashes, many of which I could now place: her smiling over an ancient crib, her shushing him in Stonehenge, her grin the moment before she teleported out of the Byzantium… and one memory I couldn’t place in her diary, her hand pressed to his cheek with a plaintive voice, _Tell me you know who I am._ A terrible sadness washed over him, so sudden I was left breathless and hollow.

“Doctor...” I wanted to say something about his swinging moods, but he covered my mouth with his before I could find the words. Our mutual frustration instantly turned sexual, morphing into an almost frantic desire. He was hard in a flash, his hands everywhere on me at once. Within moments I'd yanked his braces down until they were dangling from his waist uselessly, his quick hands unzipping his trousers. He pushed me roughly against the wall and I hiked up my skirt. He drove into me with no hesitation.

Thanks to the psychic connection, I was ready for him. The Doctor held me there against the wall, his hand tangled in my hair, holding my forehead to his while he pounded into me with long fast strokes. Arcs of pleasure ripped through the psychic connection. When he came inside of me, The Doctor called out my name.

After finishing, he released me from his grip but stayed close. “Well. I feel a lot better now,” he said mildly. He tucked himself back into his trousers and buttoned them up, but unfastened his bracers completely. “Shall we to bed?” He loosed his bow-tie and let it drop to the floor.

"Doctor, you're all over the place tonight," I said, overwhelmed by switching tracks so abruptly. He reached out and traced my cheek with his thumb, eyes searching my face with sudden concern. "I don't understand."

"Human beings." The Doctor leaned in and kissed my forehead. "You aren't meant to feel the kinds of things that come along with hundreds of years of experience. You aren't meant to feel other people's minds at all. You're not built for it - and trust me, it gets exhausting even when you are built for it."

"I know, but... that wasn't what I was talking about." I couldn't find words to ask him what I really wanted to know - why he was so conflicted about seeing me, why he was so quick to anger. I struggled for a moment, then asked, "Why did you wait so long before coming back?"

His frustration flooded back for a moment before he restrained it tightly, "I was... cross."

"Because of something I haven't done yet." He didn't answer me, but his eyes and the powerful restraint locked around his frustration told me that I was correct. "Why did you decide to come back?"

Before he could lock his mind down, I caught a glimpse of a memory - the Doctor watching my shoulders shudder as I tried to hold back tears and failed. The image snapped off, but I could still feel his pity. Eventually he said, "I was lonely. I missed you." I suspected he was mostly lying, that the pity had more to do with it.

Then he surprised me by saying, "Yes, well, that's very charitable of you. I actually did think of you often, thanks much." He stepped away from me and crossed his arms, then immediately uncrossed them. "And anyway, I thought you didn't want to hear about your future." It was hard to read his tone when we weren’t touching, somewhere between joking and cross. "And even if you did, I really shouldn't tell you anyway. You _know_ that."

"What could I possibly do that has the two of you so worked up? Especially since you keep telling me how boring my life is."

"Yes, well, you have the choice about whether or not your life stays boring. When that choice comes, you remember that."

"You sound just like my aunt."

"I get that a lot, actually," he said. He rubbed his face. "Okay, not working." His face lit up, and then went serious. He looked at me with an inscrutable expression, reached for my hand. "Let's go to bed, and I'll explain."

He led me to bed, undressed me, and tucked me in like a child, which would have bothered me if I weren't so exhausted from being on the Doctor's emotional roller coaster. At that point it was just a comfort. By the time we were both in bed, he was wrapped entirely around me with his chin resting against my forehead. Then he began talking in a low, soft voice, choosing his words carefully. He let me drift through his thoughts and feelings like trailing fingers through sand.

"You were very kind to me, when we first met. Kinder than anyone had been in a long time. People usually don't invite me in - in fact, they usually try to throw me out.

“I started visiting you after that because I was curious. It's not every day that I meet someone who has so much... potential. I've never met a woman - a human woman - who can share this kind of bond with me. You can see right into my soul. It's not a pretty soul, or a good soul - it's old, and shriveled, and worn-out. Adventures gone wrong. Tragedies of what could have been.

“Even knowing all that, you still invited me in." He kissed the top of my head. "It's the people we…” he hesitated on the word, then chose another one, “care about the most who can hurt us the worst. That's why I stayed away so long. I'm old, and cross, and stubborn.

"Did you know that Time Lords don't need as much sleep as humans?" he asked, changing topics abruptly.

"No, I didn't."

"We only really need a few hours every so often. Time Lords can go decades without sleep if we need to. Sometimes I go far longer than I should.” He paused, choosing words. “When I lie down alone, in the dark, all of the terrible things I've seen and done creep into my head." He let his fingers work their way through my hair. "Being here with you is different. It's comfortable. Comfortable and safe and welcoming... it doesn’t leave room for the darkness. What brings me back - what will always bring me back - is this." He squeezed me close, projecting a warm affection through the psychic link. "When I'm lying next to you, I fall right to sleep.  Peacefully, even.

"When I tried to lie down alone, I could think only of you. I wanted to wake up next to you again. So, here I am."

"That was incredibly sweet." I shifted in his arms to kiss him tenderly. "And here I was thinking it was about the sex."

He smiled against my lips. "Well, that's pretty nice too." As if stirred up from the mere mention of sex, a fluttering of arousal began to course through the psychic link. "And I do believe I owe you something in that regard."

I was a little surprised at that, and he responded as if I'd spoken it aloud. "Did you think I didn't notice? Of course I did. I don't want to let you go to sleep unsatisfied." The tone of his voice thrilled me, and that excitement echoed through the psychic link. His hands crept down my body, tracing a familiar pattern, sending my desire to full throttle.

His fingers reached their destination, and he inhaled sharply. "You're sopping wet." He moistened his fingers in me, then traced exquisitely light circles around my clit. I could feel him probing through the psychic link, adjusting his speed and pressure. As I grew used to his touch, he fluttered two fingers at my lips, then slid them inside me.  In one smooth motion he found the sweet spot, his thumb going back to work at my clit. I gasped and writhed against him, clutching at his other arm still wrapped around me. His rhythm was perfect, driving me up and up. "Doctor, I'm going to-" but then I was already there, riding the waves of an immense orgasm.

I don't know if I kissed him, or he kissed me, but I remember coming out of the kiss minutes later, my head still swimming. He looked down at himself. "Ugh, I've messed my pants!" I looked, then laughed - there was a wet spot spreading across the crotch of his trousers. "I suppose I'll have to sleep naked, then." He struggled out of his clothes, tossing them to the foot of the bed.

I settled into him and said "There's nothing wrong with that. I like the feeling of your skin against mine." He nodded against my forehead, then sighed contentedly. We fell asleep entangled and wonderfully spent. 

I realized much later that it was make-up sex.


	7. New Visitor

The next semester had just started when the strange things started happening one after another. It started with the time I heard the TARDIS, like usual, but when I went to the bedroom it was empty. A few seconds later I heard a knock at my door.

The Doctor was standing outside with a stranger’s smile on his face.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. We met at that party a while ago, not sure if you'd remember it. Good to see you again." He lunged towards me and shook my hand in greeting. As soon as his skin touched mine, the psychic link roared open. There was none of the familiar affection that I'd associated with the Doctor - in fact, this visit was the first time I’d realized it was even there, because of its notable absence. In its place was an almost overpowering curiosity.

This happened over the course of maybe a second; he quickly yanked his hand away and his eyebrows shot up. "Still there! Now that’s just spooky." He shook out his hand briefly. "I'm, ah..." he was trying to think of a clever excuse to get into my home.

"Doctor, of course! Come in."

He smiled, then stepped into my apartment. "Thanks.  Mind if I take a look 'round?" He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began flying around my living room, scanning things.

“You know, you can park in here if you want.  I’ve got plenty of room,” I said, watching him.

He glanced around.  “In here?”

“In the bedroom,” I said. 

“In here?” He took the opportunity to duck into my bedroom and scan around.  “Oh, right.  Here we go.  You're right, it's a perfect fit!  Might take you up on that next time actually.  Eventually.”

This must have been very early for him, I realized. Maybe even his first visit. I was a little stunned, and I decided at once that I should play it cool.

"What are you looking for?" I asked. He'd worked his way into my kitchen with the sonic.

"I don't know exactly. Something out of the ordinary - a clue, maybe." He dashed into my bathroom, shouting back at me, "Can you tell me anything about the psychic link between us?"

"Let's see if I remember it. Something about resonation with the TARDIS's psychic circuits?"

He popped his head out of my bathroom, an eyebrow cocked, his face lit up. "Oh?"

"Yeah. My brainwaves..." I looked at the ceiling, trying to remember the exact words he used. "My brainwaves make a resonation pattern with your interface in the TARDIS's psychic field, I think? Like a laser."

He was grinning at me while I was talking. "You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Not the faintest."

He scanned me with the sonic while I was responding, and then he held it up to check something. His brow furrowed, and he looked from the sonic to me and back again. "But you're right. I mean, the bit about the laser is rubbish, but you're exactly right." He stared at me incredulously. "How did you know that?"

I laughed again. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"It's complicated."

"I'm very clever." The look on his face was intense and amused at the same time, and something about it sent me into a fit of irrepressible giggles. He put on an annoyed face. "Oy, I am! Really!"

"I know," I said as the giggles faded. "But I don't know if I can tell you."

"Trust me. I'm the Doctor."

"I do trust you." The amusement was completely gone from his face now, and his eyes were completely serious. I tidied my mind up in preparation - closed some doors, if you will - and then took his hand. As soon as I could feel him, I immediately understood. Of all the ridiculous things, he was scared. With his history, a thing he doesn’t know? Is almost always a threat. The fact that I was dodging his questions only increased his suspicion.

Still holding his hand, and being very careful not to open the doors I'd closed, I chose my words carefully. "All I know about it, I've picked up from you. And I wouldn’t hurt you."

With our hands linked, I'm certain he could feel that I was telling the truth.  “I do get that impression,” he said.  “You’ve been unfailingly kind to me. I’m starting to get suspicious. Wondering what I did to deserve it.”

I unlinked our hands before I gave too much away.  Too late, I think.  His eyebrows were halfway up his forehead.  “Interesting,” he said, fiddling with his bowtie.  “That explains a lot, actually.  But I’m... that’s not what I came here for.”

I put on a mock-hurt expression, and he stammered the beginning of an awkward defense before I started laughing.  “It’s alright, Doctor.  Besides, we hardly know each other.”

He nodded gratefully.  “That’s right.  Though I would very much like to get to know you.”

I liked the sound of that.

I sat down on my couch and gestured for him to join me.  We linked hands and I felt a brief thrill.  I realized that it was probably a good time to start in on the questions that I’d waited so long to have answered.

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

“TARDIS blue, of course.  She’s a good old girl.”

"Favorite book?"

“Hang on,” he said, feeling a flash of inspiration.  “If I’m going to answer your questions, you should answer mine.”

“Alright,” I said, and I waited for him to start.

“How did you end up at that party where we met?”

I looked blankly at him.  “Not sure what you mean.”

“The Oscars party.  How did you end up there?  You’re not rich, or famous, or well-connected.  How’d you get on the guest list?”

 “I haven’t been to any Oscars party.”  I hadn’t been to any parties in a long time, in fact.

“But that’s how we… oh.  Ohh, it probably hasn’t happened yet.”  He checked his watch.  “Might have popped in a bit early.  That also explains some things, I suppose.  No wonder you made me check.”

“Aren’t we supposed to avoid talking about the other’s future?” I asked pointedly.

“Are we?  Sorry, I’m still catching up,” he said.

I smiled and shook my head.  “Your favorite book?”

“Ooh, that’s a tough one.  Hard to narrow it down, let’s go with favorite author, which has to be… oh, at the moment, I’d say Agatha Christie.  Brilliant woman.”  He pondered for a moment.  “How long have we known each other?  For you, I mean, how long has it been for you?” 

I eyed him up, wondering if this was some sort of trick.  “This is only the second time we’ve met, for me,” he said. “I’m just curious.”  The first part was true, but the second part… there was more to it that he didn’t want to tell me.  Which was fair enough, because there’s plenty I didn’t want to tell him.

“In person?  Maybe six months."

The Doctor reacted to that in a big way, flustered and surprised. I rushed to reassure him, "It's not like that - you don't _live_ here or anything. You just, um. Stop by, every once in a while."

He blinked at me, but didn't say anything. He didn't really need to, I guess. After a moment, I continued, shifting gears slightly. "I’ve known about you since I was little, actually.  My aunt used to tell me stories.  She traveled with you for a while… or will do, maybe.” I tried to keep my demeanor as breezy as possible, to prevent him prying. I moved quickly on with, “What were you doing before you came to visit?”

After a little bit of convincing, he eventually started in on some of his stories. He told me about this shared nightmare he had, something about psychic pollen.  I hadn’t heard that story before, so I listened with interest.  “It hasn’t been very long at all since I last saw you,” he said.  “But Amy and Rory are… busy.”  He glanced around, then gripped my hand a little tighter.  “I was too curious about this” – the psychic connection – “to stay away for very long.”

It was true, but he was using it to cover something else, something he didn’t want to think about.  When I let the silence linger, his mind wandered to this Amy again, and the impossibility of privacy when you’re a psychic living in a psychic ship, and the moment he realized what Amy and Rory were starting to do behind that closed door… and then he remembered undressing me.  I didn’t remember ever wearing a dress like the one he remembered stripping from my body, but I didn't really have time to process because then just as quick came the sudden thought that I was right there, sitting right next to him, knowing this about him, and he didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or aroused.

All of that happened in maybe five or ten seconds after he finished speaking.

As the silence grew more awkward I said neutrally, “It seems you're curious about a lot of things.” With the things I was thinking, it was halfway between an observation and a proposition.

He didn’t deny that he was curious, couldn’t deny it, because I could feel it. “It’s my turn to ask a question,” he said. I thought he was going to changed the subject, but he surprised me. “Have we…” He braced himself to say it.  “…had sex?” 

I didn’t answer, but instead began to shift to lean closer to him.  He finished the movement, shifting his arm around my shoulder to give me space.  When I leaned my forehead into the familiar crook of his neck, I figured he could feel the answer to his question without me needing to say a word.  “Haven’t we?" I asked. "From your perspective?”

“No.”  He thought of a question, but he debated whether or not to ask it.  Possibilities tumbled through his head.  I thought about the texture of his skin, the lumps in my hand-me-down sofa, anything to stop myself from remembering the specific details of those nights.  He debated whether or not he should pull away. The phrase _cheap voyeurism_  came to his mind.  Finally he came out with it. “Was it good?”

Then I couldn’t stop from remembering, just a little.  “Very.  Very good.”  He realized that he was pressing uncomfortably against his trousers, then realized that I could feel his arousal too, and both were mildly embarrassing to him.  “Don’t worry about it,” I said.  “I don’t mind at all.” 

“It’s your turn to ask a question,” he said.   _Let it be about something else_ , he thought, even as he suppressed the urge to lean in and kiss me.   _This is wrong.  So wrong._

I paused for a moment, realizing how silly my questions were.

“No, silly is good,” he assured me.  “It’s nice to have a normal conversation every once in a while.  And I really don’t want to do anything… like that.”

“You don’t?” I fished.

“Part of me does.”  He glanced down at himself, bit his lip, forced the erection away with some mental trick of Time Lord physiology. With more restraint, he said, “That doesn’t count as a proper question.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath to steady myself, fishing for an innocent question. “ What’s your favorite music?”

That question set him off on a several-minute-long outpouring of musical history that wandered from big band music through genres that didn’t even exist yet, and even music from other worlds.  I think he settled on something he called “Ood-song” that involved psychic tentacle-faced people. 

Now his questions were just mirrors of my own, and we exchanged some basic getting-to-know-you things.  Eventually I got around to "If you could be any kind of tree, what kind of tree would you be?”

He chuckled.  “Not any that you’ve seen.  Did you know that your rainforests eventually evolve into walking, talking tree people someday?  No, really!  One of them even fancied me!  What about you?”

“Probably a fig tree.  I like the feminine imagery.”

“Yes.  Well.  You are very feminine.”  He glanced down at my body, and took a deep breath to prevent another erection.

“You want me.”  It was a statement, not a question.  I leaned into him again, and I could feel his body confirm it, even as his mind pushed it away.  “But you think that’s a bad thing, and you don’t want to indulge it.  Why?”

“Because.  I’m a Time Lord.  You’re a human.  It would never work.”

“Doctor…” I sighed.  “The age thing doesn’t bother me. Neither does the species thing.  And that’s not really what bothers you either, so don’t even pretend.” He made to protest, but I stopped him, charging forward with, “ If you’re worried about seeing me die, don’t, because I’m not going to come traveling with you.  Not until my aunt can come with me, and that’s not happening today.”  He swiveled his head to stare at me.  “I don’t mind waiting for you to visit, and I’m not going to be heartbroken when you stop.  I already know it’s going to happen.  Nothing lasts forever.”  I searched my memory.  “Does that cover it?”

“Not quite,” he said, “but that does hit the main points.  I’m guessing we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Something like it.”

He gathered his thoughts, and the deep sadness welled up within him.  “Mostly I’m worried about…” he paused, foregrounding the psychic connection in his mind, dredging up honest words that he didn’t want to say. “...hurting you.  I always end up hurting the people I care about.”  Memories flashed too quick for me to catch more than the impression of tear-streaked faces, one after the other.  “Danger follows me around,” he said. “I don’t want any of that affecting you.  Being with you like that, it won’t make anything easier.”

I thought for a second.  “You scanned my whole apartment,” I said.  “Anything dangerous?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Doctor, my life is boring.  You’re always saying it.”

“I am?”

“You will be.  Look around.  My life is school, internet, sleep, repeat.  Boring.  Nothing you do will change that.  I’ve been seeing you for months, and nothing you’ve done has changed that.”

“Yet,” he said.  “Just like you said you won’t travel with me yet.  That could still change.  Maybe that’s when it changes.”

I thought about it.  “I don’t think so.”

“Either way, I’m not comfortable with that quite yet.  It just seems like a bad idea.”

“To some parts of you.”  I kissed his cheek, then pressed my forehead to his temple.  “Others seem to like the idea.” 

The Doctor didn't deny it, but his breathing became ragged as he realized how hard he was becoming. He contemplated standing up as he inhaled shakily. He could close the connection by pulling away; in a few moments the Doctor could be anywhere else in the universe. But he hesitated. There was a moment of rationalization,  _but what’s the harm?_ And then he closed his eyes and let himself indulge.

We spent a quiet moment nestled together, silent but thinking.  Scenarios ran through his mind, awakening bits of my memories. He thought about me being naked in his arms, and what would have happened if he’d embraced me instead of pulling away?  If he’d kissed the back of my neck, and filled his hands with my breasts? My body ached at the thought.

I rested a hand against his chest, wondering if it would be too much to let it drop into his lap and begin stroking… which only made him harder, even as he thought _No, you’re human, that’s so wrong. I can’t._   His shoulders and thighs were tensed as if he was readying to flee, but he leaned into me, nestling his cheek against the crown of my head. I took that as a signal to continue pressing my dirty thoughts into his mind.

His hands began to move across my body, not groping me, but grazing my hair and shoulders and hips, while the mutual fantasy began to build between us. He thought of his hands pulling the fabric away from my breasts, wondered whether my nipples would harden right away, or whether he’d have to ply them with his fingertips before my body would respond. In return, I remembered how his lips felt when he suckled me, the sweet pain when he bit down gently on my nipples. He wondered what my labia would look like, what I would taste like.  I remembered how made me squirm with his tongue.

We wound each other up like that for I don’t know how long, between his imagination and my memory, and our hands grasping across each other's bodies.

The Doctor broke first, gripping me by the hips to draw me onto his lap. I shifted with the movement, ending up with my legs straddling his. His erection jutted into my thigh through his trousers, and his mind was laser-focused on the few thin layers of clothes that were between us. The ache in him grew to an unthinking need.  His eyes still closed, he grasped my hips and pulled me hard against him, his restraint faltering as the friction increased.  One of his hands crept up my body, and I felt him struggle with his own desire.  He played at the hem of my shirt, debating.

I leaned down to finally kiss him.  His fingertips were moving then, fidgeting up and down my body, then away, then irresistibly back, then flying away again, as if he was fighting with himself. His emotions were roiling, unreadable. Finally he grasped my hips again tightly, and he roughly shoved me off of him.

“No.  No, no, no.”  He stood up with a comically large bulge in his trousers.  “I can't.”  He gritted his teeth, and his erection began to deflate.  “I need to go.”

“But I-”

“Sorry.  I know.  Bad form.”  He was rushing toward my front door, opening it.  He turned back.  “You’re fine, you’re…” he trailed off, raking my body with his gaze, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.  “Perfect.  But I can’t.  It’s not right.  I’m sorry.”

He began to duck outside but hesitated, turning back. “Thank you for being so kind.”

The Doctor closed the door behind him, leaving me to sit frustrated on the sofa, head spinning.  I sighed heavily, then glanced back at my schoolwork.  I decided against it.  Too much on my mind. 

I spent the next half hour or so letting off the steam that he’d built up.  Alone.


	8. A Promise Kept

The next time the Doctor appeared, I was lying in bed reading.

At the sound of the TARDIS I set my book down and smiled. He was parking her inside, which meant it was later for him, which meant much less awkwardness all around.

The door opened and he popped his head out, grinning wildly. "Hello! Hope you're not too busy."

"Nope, just reading." I patted the bed. "Come on," I said, already starting to anticipate what came next.

"Not this time," he said as he burst into my room. "This time, you're coming with me." He took the book from me and set it on my nightstand, then grasped my hands and pulled me into a sitting position. He was nearly vibrating with excitement, almost a feeling of joy.

I didn’t exactly share his enthusiasm. I was starting to get tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. With some irritation I said, "I already told you no, Doctor. I promised my aunt-"

“What? What did you promise her?”

“That I wouldn’t travel with you, unless she was there with me.”

"I'll go get her then,” said the Doctor, surprising me. “Brilliant idea - she should absolutely come with. Let's go." He pulled me up and out of bed, intending to pull me straight into the TARDIS, but I pulled back gently.

“You haven't said hello properly," I prompted him.

The Doctor rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Are you really going to do this now?"

“You have a time machine; whatever it is can wait.” I made a face at him, and he shook his head, smiling at me. Then in a sudden fluid movement, he swept me into his arms for a long, deep kiss.

I could feel his mind impatiently fluttering at first, but as we kissed I could feel our mutual desire rising, his mind settling as he focused on my lips under his and my body arching in his arms. I felt him begin to stiffen. "I suppose we could dally for just a moment," he murmured against my lips. He backed me down onto the bed again, then pressed down on top of me, grinding hard through our clothing.

I kissed him ferociously, pulling his braces down. He slid his hands to my waist, and I shifted my weight so he could slide my pajama bottoms off. Then his hands went to his fly.  He leaned down to kiss me, and with a gentle rock of his hips, he was inside me.

The sudden intensity of it made me buck against him, and I felt his strong grip on my hips and shoulders. He moved me underneath him in long, controlled strokes. I clung to him with my whole body, giving myself over to the amplifying pleasure echoing through the psychic link.

He didn't let it end quickly; as we approached climax, he pressed down on me with his whole body, as deep inside me as he could get, holding my body completely still with an iron grip. "My beautiful human girl," he gasped against my cheek. "I could stay inside you forever, for all of time. And I just might." A rush of possessive passion swept over him, and he slammed into me even harder. He only managed a few more deep thrusts before his body jerked against mine, his grip tightened, and we were both rocketed into orgasm.

He gently withdrew from me, kissing my lips, then my forehead. Then he popped up from the bed with a start. When I found my feet, his quick hands were already pulling up his trousers and adjusting his bracers. "Now, are you ready to have an adventure with me _outside_ the bedroom?"

"Let me dress." I was already pulling an outfit from my hamper.

By the time I had my clothes on, he was already inside the TARDIS, the door ajar. I glanced over.  The Doctor was out of sight.  _Alright, Auntie Em_ , I thought, and rushed to my living room, where I grabbed my purse and shoved the journal into it.  I swept back into the bedroom.

“Are you coming?” the Doctor shouted from inside the TARDIS.

I stood at the threshold for a moment, gazing in. I remembered what happened the first time I'd touched the TARDIS, how intense it was. I'd gotten a lot more comfortable with the psychic in general, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to handle all that again. When I finally got the courage to open her door, I did it very cautiously.

To my surprise, when my skin made contact with the wooden door, I felt only a vague welcoming feeling, and slight amusement. Flabbergasted, I stepped inside. Everything felt familiar, as if I was revisiting a childhood home.

The Doctor was staring at me.  _I can hear you,_ he thought, his face and heart both amazed. I could feel the Doctor as strong as if I were touching him, but the TARDIS herself was an unchanging background sensation.

“Hunh,” I said.

He looked from me to the time rotor, then back to me.  A grin swept across his face.  "Good! Let's get a move on.”  He swept around the console.  “First stop, Stormcage." I walked slowly to the console, processing the situation.  “Nothing to be worried about,” the Doctor said, and launched into some explanation involving the psychic interface matrix something, all the while flipping controls.  I was astonished to realize that the Doctor's movements around the control panel were perfectly understandable, the way that you can watch someone driving a car or setting a thermostat and know exactly what they're doing. 

My reverie was broken when the TARDIS lurched, grinding loudly, and I grabbed the nearest railing. I saw immediately that the controls weren't set quite right, as obvious as leaving the windshield wipers on when it's not raining. I leaned into the TARDIS's next lurch and adjusted the gyroscopic stabilizer, and the turbulance calmed immediately. The sound went from a shuddering lurch to a steady pulsing.

The Doctor swept around to my side of the console, mildly disgusted. "Not you too."

My gaze swept from the console to his face. "Psychic link, remember?"

"Oh!" His face lit up with a brief, almost explosive joy - _A genuine companion!_ \- then suddenly furrowed in concern. He was remembering a blonde girl about my age, bathed in golden light. "Wait, no, that's impossible."

A feeling of mirth flared so strong that a chuckle burst from my lips. The Doctor tilted his head. "She's laughing at you, I think," I said.

He huffed, then looked up at the time rotor. "Thanks, dear; how very nice of you. I hope you're not planning on burning her mind out." He was suddenly flushed with an eager hope shot through with the expectation of disappointment, and he shouted at the time rotor, "If you hurt her I will be very cross with you!"

"I really don't think she's going to hurt me. The first time I touched her it was different, but-"

"At the party?”

“Party? No, it was when I first met you." I couldn't put it into words, but I took a moment to remember and knew he could feel it in my head.

"Interesting," he said, allowing a smile to creep onto his face as the TARDIS arrived at her destination. The door swung open, and there was my Auntie Em, wearing a plain grey zip-up jumper.

"Hello, sweetie," she said - but to the Doctor. "What sort of adventure do you have planned for us today?" Her cold gaze swept me up and down once, and she turned back to the Doctor. "Have you picked up another stray?"

The Doctor made some introductory noises, but I didn't pay any attention. I was stunned. She really didn't recognize me, not one bit. I remember just staring at her while she pointedly ignored me. I broke into the Doctor's monologuing and said, "Aunt Em. It's me."

She took my expression in. "Aunt...?" Then she turned to the Doctor. "Do I have siblings I don’t know about?”

"Not that I know of. She's not your biological niece." The Doctor slipped an arm around my waist - something that drew a raised eyebrow from Auntie Em - and muttered conspiratorially into my ear, "This is your aunt, before she was your aunt. Sneak preview, just for you." He planted a gentle kiss on my temple, then stepped quickly to the console. Aunt Em was staring at me wide-eyed. It was close to the look I got from her when I'd misbehaved as a kid - I knew it as restrained anger. 

 _I think she’s jealous_ , the Doctor thought.  "Now! If it's an adventure you want, adventure you shall have. But first, we have to run a boring old errand.”  His voice grew suddenly quiet.  “…at Graystark Hall." At the mention of her alma mater, Aunt Em's gaze snapped to the Doctor as he continued, feigning a casual attitude. "Won't take more than a minute, then we'll be off on a proper adventure." He dashed around the console, flipping switches.

"Graystark Hall?" Aunt Em probed. Her eyes were still wide, her expression carefully neutral.

"Graystark Hall, in the 1960s," the Doctor said.

Aunt Em took a slow step, her eyes fixed on the Doctor. "And why are we going there?"

"You really don't recognize her at all, do you?" The Doctor asked Aunt Em, nodding in my direction.

"Should I?" she asked. I felt like I'd been slapped, but stayed silent.

The Doctor shot me a concerned look, then turned back to Aunt Em. "You might not recognize her all grown up, but this should be a familiar face." He held up a photograph.

Aunt Em took it, and stared for a second. "I don't... wait a second. I do. Back when I was a little girl myself. It's... fuzzy though, I don't quite..."

"The Silence. That's what they do to you. Seeing it again helps reactivate the memory, that's all.  Think, River."

"She was there with me, in the orphanage. I saw her. That means-"

"That's right. You were not Kovarian's first attempt to turn someone into a weapon," he said to Aunt Em. Then he turned to face me. "She is."

"Wait, are you talking about me?" Impossible. My childhood was spent with Auntie Em - grown up Auntie Em. I didn't even really have any friends my age. What I remembered was sitting on my bed in the middle of the night, watching movies nestled in her lap. Her bedtime stories, about the Doctor and his TARDIS. Putting my hands in her springy hair. I didn't grow up in an orphanage.  And Kovarian… I recognized the name from my aunt’s journal, but I didn’t remember her at all. The idea was preposterous.

While I stood silently, mind boggling, Aunt Em said, "But she's human."

"Completely, 100% human. No, they took a different tack with her than they did with you. She was supposed to be my companion."

"I was what?"

The Doctor strode towards me. "Look at you - you're clever, kind, brave, surrounded by big, unanswered questions. They even picked my favorite phenotype: human female, late 20th century, young adult." His eyes flicked up and down my body, and I could feel his bubbling flirtatiousness. "Sexy." He turned back to Aunt Em. "She's perfectly designed to draw my attention."

"If she's here, then aren't you playing right into their hands?" Aunt Em said hotly, her eyes blazing.

"No - from what I can gather, they'd originally planned on luring me into a trap. But they weren't able to shape her the way they'd wanted to - so they went with a different plan, a different trap. You."

Aunt Em looked up at me, then back at the picture, then at the Doctor. "What does this have to do with Graystark Hall?"

"Getting to that bit. So! After I left Demons Run, I did some poking about." He paused, trying to find the words that would make sense. "Massive, incredible events – ones set off by people like yourself, River – they don't just happen. It takes a confluence of just the right kind of energy – specifically, the right kind of _potential_ energy. Most people are at the level of background noise, but occasionally, when things happen to line up just right, there's an eddy of potential energy that concentrates, that builds people up. She," the Doctor indicated me, "is one of those people. Kovarian tried to shape her to destroy me. But it didn't work; couldn't work. That's not the kind of potential she had. No, her potential isn't destructive; it's constructive.  Less like an atom bomb and more like the sun. I don't know what’ll come of that - maybe she'll cure cancer, or become Prime Minister, or discover a new form of mathematics. If I took her with me, the things she could do... it could change the course of the entire universe. For the better, I have no doubt.

"The Silence needed that energy, but they needed it to be disconnected from this girl. They needed to channel it, process it, to use it to power something quite unlike the form it takes in her. I discovered a beacon, quite cleverly disguised as a cell tower, not far from where she lives. It's been siphoning off the potential energy for years - so instead of changing the world, she's living in a boring flat in a boring part of America, a boring, everyday human life. That beacon in her time is linked to others, across time and space. I found a second one in 1969, and a third at Demon's Run. But the control center is at Graystark Hall Orphanage. That control center is the hub through which all of that energy passes, probably funneling it to you through that spacesuit. If I've figured it right, all we'll need to do to bring the whole thing crashing down is for her as an adult to step outside the TARDIS in this time zone. The instant she does that, the feedback loop from the beacons should create a potential energy short, frying the whole system."

The Doctor approached me now, talking directly to me. "That trepidation you feel about flying in the TARDIS, the strangeness in the pit of your stomach - the feeling that it would be wrong, that it's too much for you. All of that is a terrible lie. If the Silence hadn't been stealing your life from you, then you could be capable of so much more."

The Doctor stepped to the TARDIS door, and pushed it open. "No more waiting. No more pining. One step."

"Wait," River said quickly. "If the beacons are destroyed, won't that change my life as much as hers?"

A trickle of worry crept over the Doctor, his forehead creasing. "River... your life is what it is, because hers is less than what it should be."

"Are you saying I don't deserve to be amazing as well?" she quipped back at him.

Irritated now, the Doctor took a step in her direction. "Not if you're stealing it from someone else.”

"I can't let you do this," Aunt Em insisted.

"River, this is not up for debate," the Doctor declared. "This is wrong, and I will stop it." A righteous anger began to burn deep within his core.

"You don't understand what you're meddling with - Doctor, you must trust me. I've seen your future - our future."

"Time can be rewritten," the Doctor said reflexively.

"Don't you dare," Aunt Em fumed.

Indignant rage flared within the Doctor, and he took another aggressive step in her direction. They were almost nose-to-nose now. Before he could go off on Aunt Em, I spoke up.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Aunt Em's gaze snapped to me, and the Doctor turned to face me, his rage quashed instantly. "After all," I said, "it's my life we're talking about, isn't it?"

“Yes,” the Doctor said gently, feeling an uneasy mix of concern and hope.

“So if I step outside, right now…”

“Everything that’s holding you back will disappear,” the Doctor said, earnestly.  “You could come with me.”  His eyes were alight with hope and eager anticipation.  But there was the nagging feeling that I was missing something, that I wasn’t getting a complete picture.

“Why is that so exciting for you?”  I asked, fixing my gaze upon the Doctor, concentrating on his response.

He blinked, startled, not expecting the question, then steeled himself to lie to me.  “Because I care about you – I want you here with me.”  Not really a lie, but not the whole truth.

“Shut up,” I said, striding quickly towards him.  I felt a flash of indignance from him, and he put on a face, but before he could respond I quickly repeated, “Really, shut up,” focusing on pressing my awareness through the psychic link.

The realization swiftly hit him that I could feel his thoughts, and he felt briefly sheepish.  He shook his head, then closed his eyes and sighed.  In that brief moment he impressed into my mind the feeling of so many previous companions’ hopeless ignorance, always a step behind, never fully understanding what was going on until it happened.  He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards me, hope burning tight in his chest.  “You’re special,” he finally said, quietly.

 _The psychic_ , I thought.  _He wants me to come along because he wants someone who understands him – who_ feels _him – who can comfort him._

Our eyes met, and I felt his quiet confirmation of my thoughts.

“Alright,” I said.  I turned to look at Aunt Em, who was staring at our exchange with her jaw clenched.  I glanced back at the Doctor.  “What happens to her, then?”

He was unsure of how much I knew, so he took a breath, and said, “When she was an infant, she was stolen away from her mother.  The people who did that – they won’t have any power over her anymore.  Whatever they were planning for her, they won’t be able to do it.”  The word _psychopath_ went through the Doctor’s mind. "She'll grow up with her mother and father, just as she should have." The Doctor's heart swelled at this last thought, thinking of his friends - his companions - and the idyllic life they'd get to lead.

I locked eyes with Aunt Em, knowing what she’s been through.  “So her life would be completely different.”

“Certain events will change.  Not all.  Just the ones that are being driven by your stolen life.”

I thought for a second, and as I did, the Doctor suddenly became dismayed. “Careful,” he said to me, “foreknowledge is dangerous.”  I shot him a questioning glance.  “I’m not peeking” he said defensively, “just be careful.”

“What does she know about me?”  Aunt Em asked, glancing between the Doctor and me, her voice strained.

“Where is this, for you?” I asked her.  She eyeballed me incredulously.  “I know it’s after Berlin.  And if you’re in Stormcage…”  I glanced from her to the Doctor, guarding my thoughts and words very carefully.  The Doctor rolled his eyes and then plugged his ears and began humming, filling his head with other thoughts to distract himself, feeling rather put-upon for doing so.  I quickly leaned in towards Aunt Em and whispered, “You stopped time for him.”  

Her mouth dropped open.  “How do you know about that?” she asked.

“Can I stop now?” the Doctor asked with exaggerated irritation in his voice.

I ignored him and said to Aunt Em, “You’re my family.  My only family.”  I reached into my purse and drew out the battered TARDIS-blue journal.

“How did you get that?” the Doctor murmured, worry cranked up to full throttle.

I shot him a look.  “She’s _my aunt_ ,” I said.

Aunt Em’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.  She pulled out her own journal – looking much less worn than the one I held.

I turned towards the Doctor, held up the journal.  “If I step outside right now, how much of this disappears?” I asked him.  He began to shrug, to confabulate some comforting answer, but I knew he had no idea.  I turned back to Aunt Em.  “Where are you now?” I asked her again.

“I’m… the last time I saw the Doctor was at Demon’s Run,” she said cautiously.

“I’ve done that one too,” the Doctor said.  “Good, we’re all on the same page.”

“So that puts the two of you right about at the midpoint.”  A warning flared through the psychic link – _careful!_ – followed by a sadness as the Doctor remembered.  “So whose life changes?  Whose events get erased?  Is that how it works?”

“Sort of,” the Doctor said. “I don’t know what will change.  Maybe all of it, maybe none of it.”

“He doesn’t know yet,” Aunt Em said, her voice increasingly desperate.  “He doesn’t know, but you do.  You know what happens.”  She clutched my hands in hers.  “Please,” she begged, tears in her eyes – and I suddenly realized, this is what I saw when I touched the TARDIS that first day – “Don’t take that away from me.”

The Doctor’s fury was welling up again.  “River, you have no right.”

“I told you, shut _up_ ,” I snapped at the Doctor, feeling a wave of frustration from him.  I wrested my hands from Auntie Em’s grip and settled them over hers.  “Aunt Em…” A tear fell down her face. “Of course not,” I said.  “I would never.”

Shock ripped through the psychic link.  “What?” he exclaimed, flying over to us.  “No, no, no, no, you don’t understand.”

“No, _you_ don’t understand.” I let go of Aunt Em and turned to face the Doctor.  “This is my aunt, before she’s my aunt.  If I change her life now, where does that leave me?” I demanded.

The Doctor was unsettled by my question.  “I- well-”

“If I change this right now, it will destroy her life.  It might destroy my own.  I might not even have a family if I change this.”

“But you might have a _real_ family if you change this. _She_ would have a real family.”  His thoughts were a string of denials – _no no no no no no no no_ – a rush to think of something, anything that would shift my thoughts, and the memory of his best friend's voice over a speakerphone, begging him to bring her daughter home.

“Doctor, she _is_ my real family,” I said.

“But this is wrong,” he said desperately, jamming this thought through the psychic link. I had to close my eyes and fight against his incredibly strong will.

When I spoke it was strained.  “Doctor, take me home.”

“No!” he shouted, flooded with panicked dismay.  “You can’t do this!”  He flew at Aunt Em.  “River, you can’t let her do this!”

“Don’t take this out on her,” I said as levelly as I could, still struggling against the emotions in my head.  “This is my decision.  It’s my life.”

The Doctor gripped my shoulders, then clasped my head with his hands.  “No, you can’t.”  The entire weight of his crashing hopes came blasting through the psychic link, amplifying between us to tear unbearably at my heart.  

I burst immediately into tears, dropping to my knees.  The Doctor knelt in unison, holding my forehead to his.  “Please stop,” I said between heaving sobs.

“No – you should feel what you’re doing to me,” he said, grasping me tightly.  Tears were running down his own face.  “You’re breaking my hearts.  _Please_ don’t do this.”

“Stop, please, stop,” I wept, pathetic.

And suddenly, just like that, the psychic link with the Doctor was abruptly severed, replaced with a gentle whisper of comfort.  _The TARDIS_ , I thought, and received instant psychic confirmation.  The Doctor’s grip loosened, and I slumped to the floor, suddenly and completely exhausted.  “Thank you,” I whispered to the TARDIS as the Doctor shouted uselessly.

I felt like passing out, but I was shaken awake by the image of the Doctor carrying my unconscious body outside against my will.  I pulled myself into a seated position by one of the rails.  Aunt Em took herself back to Stormcage, silently piloting the TARDIS with an expert hand while the Doctor raged and cajoled and pled and finally raged some more. 

Before she left, she knelt down to me, resting a kind hand on my shoulder.  “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick.

I shrugged.  “You’re my aunt,” I said, then immediately felt tears well up in my eyes, because she wasn’t my aunt.  Not yet.

But when she leaned over and embraced me, for a moment she was entirely my aunt.  I buried my face in her frizzy hair and bawled like a child, and she hugged me until the sobs receded.  “I will be,” she murmured into the top of my head.  “I promise.”

“I know.” 

She withdrew from the hug and helped me to my feet.  The Doctor was standing at the entryway to one of the TARDIS corridors, arms crossed, facing away from us.  Aunt Em looked at him with sad eyes.  “I don’t think I’m going to get a kiss goodbye,” she said to me.

“No, but a hug might do,” I said, and hugged her again fiercely.

After she left, the Doctor stood silent and unmoving.  I looked down at the controls, wondering if I should take a spin at it, but was gently reproached by the TARDIS herself, reminded of how much he hated when River stepped in.  _Could I feel him again?_ I thought to the TARDIS, but she offered only another gentle reproach.  I looked up at the time rotor and said, “I don’t want him to suffer alone.”

The Doctor’s head turned when I spoke, and the psychic link crept open.  At first all I could feel was a vague negative feeling, which coalesced into anger, then a frustrated rage.  I began to press comfort through the link, but the Doctor spun to face me.  “I don’t want your pity.”  His fury burned deep.  “In fact,” he said, flipping the TARDIS controls, “I don’t want you here at all.”  He set the travel speed dangerously high, considering the small amount of spacetime we were traveling.  “I’m taking you home.”  He rushed to flip both handbrakes.  “Now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out,” he said, his voice low and dark.

I pressed the TARDIS doors closed, and I could feel them lock behind me. I turned around and pressed my forehead against the wooden doors. I could still feel the Doctor's rage, but underneath that was a kind sadness from the TARDIS herself as she dematerialized. Then I was standing alone in my room.

I felt numb, almost in shock. I looked around at the bare walls of my bedroom, the empty space that the TARDIS left behind. I'd always looked forward to traveling with the Doctor, but now I never would. I chose this, instead. My life would ever and always be just... this.

Then there was a gentle knock on my open bedroom door. I turned around and Aunt Em was standing there, wearing the same clothes she was wearing when she left my place, this time with her vortex manipulator worn openly on her wrist.

"Hello, sweetie." She frowned at me for a long moment, her eyes creased with pity.  "My how you've grown."


	9. An Explanation

I burst into tears, and my aunt rushed towards me. "Oh, sweetie." She wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so, so sorry."

I hugged her back. "You know who I am."

"Of course I know who you are. I'm your aunt."

I smiled despite myself, then stepped back. "He'll be back. I already know he'll be back." I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, wiping my face.

Aunt Em nodded, smiling back at me. After I collected myself a bit, she reached out with both hands and patted my forearms. "Thank you. Really."

I nodded at her, then smiled. "You're my aunt." Then I thought about it for a second. "What did you mean, you remembered me from your childhood?"

Aunt Em nodded. "It's a long story."

"But I deserve to know it."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Let me make us a cup of tea."

While she boiled water, she told me about her childhood, remembered only in bits and pieces. "I mostly remember my room, and the suit. But very vaguely, I remember... a screen. A monitoring screen. I wasn't supposed to see it, I'd broken out of my room in the middle of the night. But on the screen there was another little girl. I remember hoping that we could... be friends.

"I'd almost entirely forgotten about it, until the Doctor showed me this." She extended the picture towards me. It looked like a frame from a security camera, mounted on a high corner, but I recognized the bedroom immediately as my own. The child sitting in the corner of the bed, head bent over a book, was indisputably me.

"But I didn't grow up in an orphanage," I said.

"Not past the age of twelve or so, no."

"Not at all!" I insisted.

"Think about it." I opened my mouth to insist again, but she stopped me. "No, really, think. Remember."

I closed my eyes, and thought about it. "I remember-"

"The Wizard of Oz.  A lot of reading. But what else?"

I thought. "I don't... I'm not sure."

"You know what the Silence do, now," she said. "You’ve read my diary.  Think about it."

"But..." I searched my memory, but genuinely couldn't remember anything about my childhood except for those nights. "Only the nights."

"That's the only time I could visit you without them noticing. Once I got out of Stormcage. Until they set up the beacon system, settled you in a school, and stopped watching quite so closely. Then I was able to work my way around them." She smiled. "You were very independent. That made things a little easier. But your childhood, the way you were locked down... you grew up so quickly. I was only able to visit you once a month, if I was lucky. Once it was almost a year." She shook her head.

I couldn't help but smile. I mimicked her voice: "My how you've grown." Then the smile faded. "That means..."

Aunt Em grew solumn and nodded. "I... I tried to make those parts of your childhood that you'd remember... as good as possible. I couldn't properly take care of you without changing everything you'd done for me." She set the cup of tea on the counter in front of me, and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Thank you. I can't say it enough. Now that I _can_ say it." She rubbed my shoulder. "Thank you."

I took my tea, but didn’t look up at her.  I just sat and thought about that for a while.  I had an entire childhood I didn’t remember.  “They were training you to be a weapon.”

“More or less successfully, yes.”  Aunt Em was busying herself in my kitchen, tidying up with restless hands.

“What were they training me for?”

“Probably the same thing, but you’re not the right kind of person for that to work.  You heard what the Doctor said.”  She smiled.  “You’re special.”

I thought about that as I watched her fret over my counters. “Potential energy, right.  But how did they know?  Why me?”

“I’d guess through judicious use of time travel,” Aunt Em replied lightly.  “The past can be rewritten.  Has already been, in this case.” She wet a sponge and started scrubbing.

I thought about my life that could have been but never was. “So they saw what I could have been, in a different timeline... went back and took me as an infant, and set things up so that I didn’t do what they saw.  And they channeled that through you… so you could kill the Doctor.”

“Sounds about right.” Her tone was level and casual, and her hands stayed busy, always busy.

They took me as an infant, just like they took her.  From her parents. 

“What happened to my parents?”

Aunt Em’s hands stopped.  She picked up a towel to dry her hands, then turned to me.   “I was waiting for you to ask that.  From the records I was able to find, it appears as though Graystark was chosen because of you.”  She sat down across from me, eyeing me cautiously.  “You were already living there.”

“I was an orphan.”

“A single mother in the 1960’s was not as easy to pull off as it is today.”

“So I wouldn’t have had parents anyway?” I asked.

Aunt Em's face softened. “It’s not like having me has been all that wonderful.”

I reached across the table and grasped her hand.  “It has been pretty good, though,” I said, completely sincere.

She nodded back.  “Thank you.”

As if she sensed that I had made some peace with what had happened, her demeanor abruptly became cheerful.  "In fact, I have a present for you, in return for all you’ve done for me," she said. She gestured to the bathroom. "In there."

I opened the bathroom door to see a long, low-cut, iridescent dress. It looked immensely expensive. Aunt Em stepped close behind me, a smile on her lips.

"How would you like to meet the Doctor?"


	10. Meeting The Doctor

“What’s he even doing at the Vanity Fair Oscar party?”

“What he always does," my aunt said, adjusting one of my hairpins.  "Save the world.  Or he did at the Oscars, anyway.  Which is how he got invited.”

The dress was sleek and almost uncomfortably tight-fitting. "Are you sure he likes this kind of thing?" I asked Aunt Em, glancing down at myself.

"You look stunning," she said in reply. "He likes a bit of glamour. This isn’t too different from the dress he wanted me to wear on our first date." She tucked a slip of paper into my handbag. "Coordinates, for him to take you home."

"What if he-"

"He will. I'll guarantee it. If there's a mishap, stay in the TARDIS. In there, you don't properly exist, so it won't affect the beacons. Make sure he takes you to these exact coordinates, at the exact time you stepped into the TARDIS." Her voice got steely, her eyes wide. "Make absolutely sure. Same exact time. He'll be confident, but make him check before you step outside those doors."

"Make him check. Gotcha.”  I thought for another second.  "What if he won't take me home?"

"Sweetie, you heard what the man said.  You're the perfect companion. He will absolutely take you home. Though I can't make any guarantees as to how affectionate he'll be. I'm pretty sure that he hasn't even been kissed yet, at this point."

I blinked at my aunt. I'd never told her about _those_ times with the Doctor. She just smiled at me. "Sweetie, not only am I a time-traveling archaeologist, I'm also _your aunt_.”  Her smile didn't waver. “You can't keep these things from me."

"You don't mind?"

"Not anymore," she said, patting my cheek. "Let's say... perspective gained with experience. When we first met though, I would have slapped the silly grins off of both your faces."

I reflected on the memory of my aunt’s face back in the TARDIS, and I blushed.

“In his timestream this is just after the crash of the Byzantium.  Well, not just after.  He fetched Rory and took him and Amy on a date.  So to speak.”  She smiled.  “Then they went off to bed, and he came here.”

“The Byzantium.”  I searched my memory. "That means-"

"He knows absolutely nothing," Aunt Em said with a smile. "Keep it general.  You know the rules.”  I nodded.  “He doesn't trust me in the slightest, either, which is why I'm leaving.” She patted my cheek. "Now, go on. Have fun."

"But what if I-"

"Go! Fun!"

She shoo'ed me, but I persisted.

"What if we don't hit it off? I have no idea what to say to him."

Aunt Em shook her head. "Don't worry. The Doctor can hold an entire conversation by himself."

"What kind of drinks does he like?" I asked her. Aunt Em furrowed her brow at me slightly. "I might want to buy him a drink, is all! What's he like?"

Aunt Em shook her head, but she answered me. "He hates wine, can't stand beer or anything bitter... but he likes sweet things. If you know anything that tastes like candy, try that. Now GO." Shaking her head, she keyed something into her vortex manipulator and vanished right before my eyes.

I took a deep breath and entered. The hotel itself was palatial, nicer than anywhere I'd been in my life. I looked around for a moment, taking it all in. Then I saw a celebrity I recognized.  And another.  Reeling, I headed towards the bar and ordered a shot to soothe my nerves.  A Washington Apple.  I remember that, because a familiar voice behind me piped up with, "They sell apples at the bar now?" I turned around and there he was, dressed impeccably in a suit with tails, his hair falling across his face.

 _Must've lost the top hat somewhere along the way,_ I thought, smiling. "It's the name of a shot. Who would come to a bar and buy apples?"

"I might," he said. "Apples are growing on me." My smile became a grin as the Doctor's face went flustery. "Not literally of course. Though stranger things have happened."

I turned my grin towards him.  "Like what?"

"Lots of things," the Doctor said, smiling crookedly. "The universe is a big place." he said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I bet you have quite a story to tell." He inclined his head, his own grin spreading. "I'd love to hear it."

He shrugged in faux-modesty. "It's a very long story."

"I have time." The bartender arrived with my shot, and I held him up. "Let me buy you a drink." I thought for a second, then turned to the bartender.  _Candy._  "Let's get him... a fuzzy navel. He might like that." That was the first alcoholic drink I ever had that didn't make me wince.  “Make it two.”

I turned back to see the Doctor studying me, the traces of a smile still playing on his lips. "That's very kind of you," he said. His voice was measured, calculatingly polite, while his eyes were sharp and searching.

I ignored the feeling of being scrutinized and smiled. "My aunt gave me a generous allowance for the evening," I said, "and sharing is caring. Besides, I'd like to hear your story."

"Oh, my story isn't that interesting," he lied. "Just a traveler, is all." He considered for a second, then stretched his hand out in introduction. "I'm the Doctor, by the way."

I closed my mental doors and put on a pleasantly neutral affect, then shook his hand. As soon as our skin made contact, the familiar link opened up. A rush of surprise from him, followed by piqued curiosity. I told him my name, but he was hardly paying attention.

His eyes were absolutely sparkling, and he drew the handshake out longer than necessary. I could feel his mind probing mine very gently. I kept a smile on my face, and thought as pointedly as possible _, It's rather rude to pry._ Then I gently withdrew my hand.

"Of course, sorry," he said, a childish grin sweeping across his face. "But I absolutely love it. Brilliant - just brilliant. How do you do that?"

 _Keep it general_ , I told myself.  "I’m mildly psychic."

"Yes, but... you seem so human!" He poked me in the arm, and I felt another little thrill. "You really do."

"That's because I am human," I said, smiling.

"That's not possible," he said.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. The universe is a big place," I said.  “… and I’m special.”

“I’m sure you are.”  He leaned closer, holding his hands out. "May I?"

“That depends.”  I shifted to emphasize my curves – not too difficult in that dress.  “Are you any good with those?”  He pulled his hands back slightly, brows furrowed, clearly flustered.  He opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again. "Ah, your drink has arrived." I carefully placed the glass into his hands.  I couldn't avoid our fingers brushing together – his awkwardness in the face of flirtation was quickly replaced with another shock of curiosity.

He stared at me intently as he took a sip. "Does that always - hey!" He looked down at the glass in his hand, examined it, then took another sip. He nodded appreciatively. "Not bad, for an alcoholic beverage. I don't drink so much anymore; I was thinking I'd lost my taste for it." Another sip. "Not bad at all. Anyway, where was I?"

I smiled and bopped his nose, getting another brief thrill of curiosity from him.

"Right!" he said. "Does that always happen when you touch someone?"

I took my shot to buy some time to think of a good way to put it. I placed the empty glass on the bar, and nodded at the bartender to bring another. "Actually, it's very selective. But not something I can really control, outside of where I touch people."

He smiled, his eyebrows flashing upwards. "Oh?"  His _interested_ look was adorable, and I couldn’t help melting around the edges.

"If I touch you here," I grazed the back of his hand, "I can feel you on the surface. Curious, interested." My fingers traced up his arm, and the strength of the connection increased. A tingle of pleasure ran through him – the light brush of my fingers against his arm was having the expected effect.  I didn’t say that out loud, but he must’ve felt my satisfaction with it, especially as my fingertips moved up his neck and I felt his hearts flutter.  He didn’t take his eyes from mine, didn’t move a muscle, as I traced a path up his cheek. 

"If I touch you here," I cupped my palm at his temple, "I can feel more. Curious, yes, because I'm unexpected. Interested, the thrill of the chase, a pressing drive to understand, so you can set things right. Always looking, always with an eye out for something out of place.  That’d be me.  Out of place.”  There was something else.  “And just a little sadness."

I projected compassion through the psychic link, and for one brief, sweet moment - no longer than a blink - the Doctor closed his eyes and leaned into my palm. But then his eyes flashed open and he was probing. "What happens if I..." he reached over and cupped my own head with his hands. Without thinking, I leaned into the touch, letting my habits take over. I could feel my own comfortable desire reverberating through him, and a puzzled feeling creeping up underneath. The Doctor gently stepped away.

"Interesting," he said. Then he scratched his face. "You seem awfully familiar."

“Side-effect of the psychic,” I said flippantly.

I don’t think he believed me, but he didn’t press the issue.  Instead we ended up chatting about how he got invited to the party.  Apparently some kind of shapeshifter had tried to steal the body of an Oscar winner, in order to get on screen and broadcast something nefarious?  With the alcohol coursing through my system I found it even harder to follow his fantastical stories, and we got pretty drunk that night.

He got even more talkative as he drank, and he told me a number of stories, some of which I’d already known.  He told me about seeing werewolves in Scotland, and vampires in Venice, and about the weeping angels – which is when he brought up Aunt Em.

“The only reason I got involved in the first place was because some mad woman summoned me out of the blue.  Though she did save Amy, got to give her credit for that.”  He turned to me.  “D’you know, she jumped out of a spaceship!”  He gestured tensely. “Right out into space!  Expecting me to just swoop in and save her.”  He shook his head.  “She acts like she’s known me her whole life, but I’ve only met her once before.  The day she died.”  He finished his drink.

To mask my shock, I downed mine too.  By the time I’d finished, I had found my composure.    “How’s that work?”  My feigned ignorance surely seemed natural enough.

“Well actually we’re both time travelers, and we seem to be meeting out of order.  I first met her… oh, ages ago.  I was a different man back then.  She died to save my life.” 

He sounded so sad, and at this point I was roaringly drunk.  I couldn’t resist reaching out for his hand.  I filled my mind with warmth and comfort as my fingers slid over his.  I was almost unprepared for the rush of emotion – sadness I expected, but anxiety I was not.  He glanced up at me and allowed his fingers to twine together with mine.

“You’re very kind,” he said for the second time that night.  This time he was completely sincere.

“I hate seeing anyone so sad,” I responded _._   But I couldn’t resist asking.  “How’d she die?”

All I caught was my aunt’s voice saying, _“don’t you dare,”_ before he withdrew his hand.

“Sorry,” he said.  “Personal.”

I nodded gravely, because... it was.

He looked around.  “Seems like the party’s dying down anyway.”  I glanced around and saw that to be true.  The crowds were thinning, and there were no celebrities in sight.  “Say, why don’t I give you a lift home?” he offered with a cocky smile.

I smiled back.  “I don’t know. I live pretty far away.”

His smile widened into a lopsided grin, and his eyes lit up.  “Oh, wait ‘til you see my wheels.”

He had to steady me a few times on the way, and he eventually took my arm to keep my swaying under control.  The novelty of the psychic link started to wear off as we walked.  I drew away when we saw her, but I still don’t know how convincing my feigned surprise and confusion was when he brought me to the TARDIS.  “Doctor, what’s this?”

He snapped his fingers, opening the doors a crack.  “Step inside.”

I lightly touched her doors and felt something conspiratorial, almost cheeky.  I pushed them open, stepped inside.  I wondered for a moment about why I couldn’t feel the Doctor, but the only answer I got was a strengthening of the childishly sly feeling.  _Ah, so you’re helping keep up the act_ , I thought.  In reply, the TARDIS herself fed me my line: “It’s… bigger on the inside!”

“Right you are,” he said, shutting the doors and racing to the console.  “Welcome to the TARDIS,” he said, and launched into a brief explanation of spacetime travel.

“Oh!” I fumbled in my purse and pulled out the slip of paper that Aunt Em had given me.  “I have these.  For you.  To get me home.”

The Doctor took the folded slip of paper from my hands and looked at it before I could.  “Why are you carrying geographic coordinates with you?”

I shrugged, too drunk to come up with a good explanation.  “I’m weird?”

He smiled.  “Good enough for me.  I’m guessing contemporaneous with the event we just left?”

“Can you get me back without any missing time?  Like, I step out just at the same instant when I stepped in?”

“I can get you back there an hour ago if you’d like.”

“No,” I said, probably too emphatically.  “Same exact time.”

“Alright,” he said, sending the TARDIS into flight with a lurch.  “If you insist.”  He raced around the console, frantically adjusting controls.  The TARDIS landed quickly; the trip was a very short one.

“Here we are!” he said, striding confidently towards the doors.  A deep feeling of foreboding began to rise in my chest.

I stood in his way, eyeing him up.  “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” he said breezily, moving as if to walk past me.  The psychic equivalent of alarm bells began ringing in my head.

I leaned heavily against the TARDIS wall, blocking his path with my arm. “Could you check?”

“Well I would if you’d just let me by—”  He tried to duck past me, but I threw myself between him and the door, catching myself on the other wall.

“On the console.  Could you check?”

His expression turned sour.  He spun on his heel, strode back to the console tensely, and turned a screen towards his face.  “See, just as I- oh.”  He glanced up at me, slightly sheepish.  “Let me make a minor adjustment.”  He did a quick dash around the console, and the TARDIS engines briefly shuddered on for a moment before he landed again.  The warning feelings turned into reassurance.  “Sorry about that.”  His lips pinched together.  Good call.”

“Thanks,” I said to him. I patted the TARDIS doors before opening them.  _Thanks to you too_ , I thought.

“Say, why are you in such a rush to go home, anyway?” he asked as I opened the door.

I turned back to answer him.  “I’m drunk,” I said, and that was the honest truth.  “I’d like to lie down.”

“Fair enough,” he said.  “But what about after that?  What do you have to go home to?  Sleep, work, telly, sleep.”  He stepped towards me, an excited smile on his face.  “How would you like to see the universe?”  I hesitated, searching for words.  “Those stories I told you, they’re all true.”  He swaggered towards me.  “We could make a story of our own,” he said, and his eyes sparkled.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said, smiling.  I didn’t want to burst his bubble quite yet.  “For now, why don’t you come tuck me in?”

He was parked outside my apartment building this time, not in my bedroom.  He helped me up the stairs, then with my door key, then with the zipper on my dress.  I remember his fingertips brushing my back, and the contact was electric.  I leaned back into him and almost lost my balance.  His arms clasped my shoulders to steady me against him, and the mixture of emotions I felt from him painted an endearingly naïve picture – surprise, confusion, and a low rumble of tempered arousal.

I turned my head to nestle against his cheek, languishing in the closeness of his body.  His hands stayed steady at my shoulders, but I could feel his arousal growing. He admonished himself mentally, _She’s human, that’s not even right, stop it._

“I’m alright with it,” I said, my lips moving against his neck.

“You’re drunk,” he said gently.  I couldn’t argue.  I _was_ drunk.  “Let’s get you to bed.”  I tried to lean away from him, but the floor lurched under my feet and I found myself stumbling.  He caught me and pulled me back against him, smiling at my intoxicated clumsiness. “Whoa there,” he said kindly.  “Let me help.”

He stripped the dress from my body gently.  His mood was almost paternal while he did it, but he couldn’t entirely suppress his desire, especially when he slid my breasts free.  When the dress was in a pool at my feet, I pressed my body against him briefly.  The awkward combination of arousal and embarrassment from him made me smile, even though he pulled away as if he was afraid he’d be burned.  I fell into bed naked.  
  
“Doctor,” I called as I buried myself in blankets.  He stepped to my bedside, eyebrows up.  I clasped the hand closest to me and pulled him to sit on the bed next to me.  I closed my eyes and pressed his palm to my temple.  He found my childish neediness endearing, even as he was still reeling from the nakedness of my body so close to him.

“Aren’t you tired?” I asked him, knowing he’d be able to feel the invitation in my words.  He thought about it for a moment.  He _was_ tired, partly from running so fast and so far, and partly my own drunken sleepiness bleeding into his head. 

He nodded down at me.  “I can sleep in the TARDIS, though.”

“You can, but you won’t.”  He accepted that as true.  He’d keep going, keep running.  “When’s the last time you really got a good night’s sleep?”  He glanced off into space as he thought back to a young blonde woman nestled against him in their big four-poster featherbed in the TARDIS.  After a few hours of watching her, the very picture of peaceful, he’d drifted off.  Waking up next to her feeling well-rested was a pleasant surprise.  Since the war, true rest had been rare.

“I can’t be all that,” I said, snapping him out of his reverie.  “I know she meant a lot to you.”  He was shocked to remember that I could feel his thoughts, then chided himself for forgetting.  “But I might be able to give you something like it.”

“Are you sure that’s OK?”

In answer, I let go of his hand, then shifted to make room for him in the bed.  “You’re very kind,” he said, shaking his head.  He began undoing his bow tie, then paused.  “I’m not interested in… in anything more than just sleeping, okay?”

“Is that what my invitation felt like to you?”

“No, but…” His eyebrows knit together.

I suddenly felt bad about having teased him.  “Yeah, I know.  To be completely honest, I wouldn’t mind that at all.”  I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fully feel how badly I wanted him before tamping it down again.  “But I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.  And I can feel when you don’t want something, remember?  I won’t push.”

He stripped down to his underclothes, slid into bed next to me.  I shamelessly cuddled up to him, and he gingerly wrapped his arms around me.  It wasn’t the same as it usually was, but it’d do just fine.

“Wait,” he said, feeling my thoughts.  “You’ve done this before?”  I struggled for words to cover up, but he pressed his forehead to mine.  “No, you have.  I’ve slept in your bed before.  In my future!”  Even if I’d tried to pull away, I wouldn’t have been nearly quick enough to avoid the psychic confirmation that I’m sure he was getting.  His body tensed up.  “And you tried to hide it from me!  Why… oh.  Ohh.”  Together we remembered the things he’d said about River, me with sudden worry and him with regret.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t... that must’ve sounded awful.”  He paused, lining his thoughts up, while I tried to keep all of my mental doors closed.  I focused on the present:  _I like you. It was good to see you today. Your arms around me feel nice. I probably drank too much._  But I’d be a fool to think that he didn’t realize it was covering for _Please don’t run from me like you do from her._

He leaned away and looked down at me with shock and sadness.  Then he squeezed me gently.  “It’s alright.  You’re alright. I’m not going anywhere.  Too sleepy.”  He yawned for effect, but halfway through he was caught by a real yawn.  _Blimey, I_ am _sleepy._   “Hush, now,” he said, and this time he projected comforting thoughts towards me. 

We settled in together again, but despite our collective sleepiness, he wasn’t able to hold his questions back.  I could feel them bubbling up in his head.  When he finally opened his mouth, he cut straight to the heart of things.

“Is that why you were so kind to me?” he asked gently.

I swallowed.  _Generalities_.  “You’re always so sad.”

Now it was his turn to guard a locked door.  He was catching on to the psychic quickly.  He kept the details away from my mind, but he couldn’t hold back the guilt he felt.  Now it was my turn to comfort him.  I reached up and cupped his face, let my fingertips brush against his scalp.  He closed his eyes, gauged my reaction.  “This is all so familiar to you.”

 “It is.”

“So is this what we do?” 

I made a questioning noise.

“I tell you bedtime stories in return for your… kindness.”

I can't remember how I responded, if I did at all.  I might have fallen asleep on him, I don't know.


	11. The Other First Time

That morning, I woke up with a killer hangover. I was mildly surprised to find the Doctor still there. He didn’t stay long – in fairness to him, I was being extremely boring – but he brought me a glass of water and tucked me back in before leaving. He was very sweet, in those early days.

It was almost a month before I saw him next. I’d started to realize that his visits were growing fewer and fewer. I missed him, sure, but I was… okay. Starting to cope better. Doing well in school, approaching graduation. I was spending more and better time with my aunt, now that we could both be completely honest. I even made some friends, though they were mostly online ones.

In fact, I was talking with one of those friends the next time the Doctor visited. I signed off when I heard the TARDIS, and was on my feet by the time the Doctor emerged cautiously from my bedroom. “Hello!  Hope you don’t mind, I parked in here this time."

I hardly noticed what he said, I was so glad to see a version of him who knew who I was. I embraced him, saying my hellos into his shoulder.  He wasn’t surprised at the psychic, and much of the familiar affection was there.  But this time there was something different in his touch – an anxiety that I couldn’t quite place. 

When I leaned up to kiss him, I felt his body tense. Anxiety flared in his gut.  I stopped short and stepped back.  “Sorry.”

“No, no.  It’s alright.”  He reached out as if to touch my arm, but then awkwardly swung his hand to scratch the back of his head.

I thought about it for a moment and realized, “Oh, this must be pretty early for you.” He’d landed in my room, but we clearly hadn’t been too intimate, which was enough to place him in my mental history. “I’m glad you took me up on my offer to park inside,” I said.

He smiled, clasping his hands behind his back.  “Well, yes.  It’s a bit safer this way.”

“I notice you’re not scanning things.”

“Nope,” he said, taking out his screwdriver for a quick scan. “Doesn’t seem like much has changed,” he said, checking his screwdriver. Then he paused, squinting. He eyed me carefully and scanned me again.  “Except for you.  You’ve picked up some artron energy since I last saw you.”

“Some what now?”

“Artron energy.”  His piercing gaze did not waver. “You’ve traveled through the time vortex.”

“Is that what happened when you took me home from that party?” 

His expression relaxed, and he smiled.  “Oh yes!  Good.  So we’re all caught up.”

“So, if you’re not here to scan things, what are you here for?” I sat on one side of my sofa, giving him plenty of space.

I was pleased when he sat next to me, his knee lightly resting against mine.  I could barely pick up a vague pleasant feeling, but nothing at all distinct.  “Oh, just to chat.  I love a good chat, don’t you?”

“So this is a social visit, eh?”

"’Course it is."  His mind shifted a bit, but the connection was too fuzzy for me to tell what that meant.  “Isn’t that what I usually come here for?  Being social, chatting.”

“Among other things,” I said with a smile.  An adorably flustered expression came across his face, and I took pity on him, thinking back to the last time he must’ve met me.  “So what’s happened since the Dream Lord?”

This time the Doctor had many more stories to tell.  He told me first about the lizard people who lived at the center of the earth, which sounded so much like a conspiracy theory I hardly believed it. 

“No, really!” he insisted, his eyebrows raised.  I kept laughing.  He reached for my hand, impressing his honesty into my mind. 

“Alright,” I said, squeezing his hand.  The Doctor made an I-told-you-so face – with an indignation so righteous I burst out in giggles – before continuing. I was pleasantly surprised when he didn't pull back his hand, instead gesturing with the other. 

He told me about meeting Vincent Van Gogh. I was more focused on how his fingers gently traced along mine.  Then he told me about getting trapped on earth and having to pretend to be a normal human – which I found absolutely hilarious.

The Doctor looked at me with a serious expression and said, “Is it really that hard to believe?” with such a wounded tone, I ended up laughing even harder. Giggling, I leaned into his shoulder, and I felt the strange anxiety arise within him again.

It put a quick damper on my giggles. I leaned back to give him some space. I kept my tone light and asked, “Is that all you've done?”

“After that, I discovered the Pandorica,” he said, then stopped.  I felt his mind reacting to mine – a very strange feeling, after spending so long in sync with him. “You recognize what that is,” he prompted me.

“It’s one of the stories my aunt told me when I was a kid.”

“Oh?”  He let that linger for a long moment – his thoughts a blur, mine purposefully still – before asking, “What sort of stories do people tell about me?”

“Good ones.”  I smiled.  “Ones where you save the day and get the girl.”

“Get the girl?  Not really my style.”

“Says the man who came back for more,” I said, attempting to be playful. It brought his anxiety back in force.  “I didn't mean it to be a bad thing,” I said. I’m certain that he felt my concerned curiosity, just as I felt his nervous affection.

The Doctor’s lips pinched tight together as he contemplated. When he reached to draw me closer, I realized at once that he wanted me to do. Because explaining it in any other way would have been too hard. We closed our eyes as he nestled me into the crook of his neck, and I let my awareness melt into his.

At first it was just feelings. Fondness, anxiety, desire, concern, anticipation... so many emotions, and they hardly made any sense to me. I could feel the conflict in his mind between an irresistible urge to draw closer to me and an incredible fear pushing him away. His feelings were so strong. I didn't know why.

So he showed me. He guided me to the intimate memories from his past, ones I won’t repeat to anyone. At first I didn't understand, but he drew me from one memory to the next, before and after, showing me the difference. Showing me what he'd lost, and what sex between us meant to him.

Time Lords are a psychic species. Think about it. 

I was offering him something close to what he'd had with his own kind, _before_.

When I realized that, I almost felt ashamed for how cavalier I'd been. But I didn't have time to think about that, because he was drawing me towards the source of his fear now, and that was too huge of a feeling to have room for anything else. He clutched me to him even tighter, but it didn't help the panic rising in his chest. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to inventory those memories, didn't even want me to know what they were.

At some point, I can't remember whether I said it or just thought it, I asked him why.

 _I’m too dangerous,_  he responded.

“You are not,” I said aloud.

“How can you say that?” he demanded, pulling away from me enough to make eye contact.

I pulled away from him a foot, enough to make eye contact.  “Because I've met you before.  And you know what?”  I took his hands and guided them to my temples.  I kept my eyes on his face and fell into the familiar pattern: _generalities, images, feelings_ that kept out the facts and figures of dangerous foreknowledge. “Nothing happened.  You were right. I am boring.  Completely boring.”

I dredged up my feelings after our one and only adventure, when I stood in my room staring at my empty walls, realizing that I would never have another adventure in my life. I made myself relive that moment so that he could feel it too. “I have a boring life,” I said, “and it’s going to be that way until the day I die.  I made my choice, and you’ve come to me before and since. And _nothing happened_.”

“What do you mean, _nothing happened?_ ” he said incredulously. I don't know whether it came from me, or him, but the memory of me straddling him flashed hot in our minds for a fleeting moment. His hands flinched away from my face, fingers twiddling nervously.  “No, no! Not that. What I mean is, when I met you, the whole of humanity was at stake! That’s a big something! And that's exactly the sort of thing that always happens to me.”

I thought about it.  “But I didn’t meet you until after that.”

“Well, that’s…”

“Did anything happen at the actual party where we met?”

His mouth opened and closed. Wrinkles danced across his forehead as his facial expression contorted. “Well, we, I took you home, and then...”

“Any threats to the human race?  To the universe?  To me, or to you?”

“Besides your poor balance, no.” he quipped.  Then he went thoughtful.  “And nothing’s happened the last time I visited here, either.”

“You’ve scanned my apartment.  Find anything out of place?”

“No.”  He was inspecting my face now.

“That’s how it’s always been.  And that’s how it always will be.”  I took his hand, and impressed this upon him.  “I know.  I’ve been there.  Nothing will happen. I’m boring, I can promise you that.”

He brought his free hand to the outside of my own, running long fingers to my wrist. He gripped my hand steadily between his and was assured of the truth of my statement completely. But he still felt hesitant.

I continued, “This is a safe place, Doctor.  You need a place like this.”  As I said the words, I realized them to be true, and so did he.  “Boring is safe.”  I reached towards him, and now both of our hands were entwined together.  “You know I’m telling the truth.”

“I do.”  The anxiety was dampened to a vague sense of unease. Underneath that I could feel a growing arousal that the Doctor was beginning to debate as his fingers began to fret against mine.

I felt his fretting, and I made a decision: if he didn’t want to be touched, then he didn’t want to be touched. I squeezed his hands, then purposefully let them go. 

To my surprise, he slid closer to me with a concerned look, reaching his hand out to touch my face.  At the first feather-light brush of his fingertips, I realized why. 

“It’s okay,” I soothed him, scooting closer so that he could feel what I was feeling. “I’m definitely not offended.” I felt his relief at that as he drew me even closer.

“Good,” he said into the top of my head.

His anxiety was mostly dissipated, and he allowed himself to widen the connection between us. One of his hands worked its way around my shoulders, and the other came up to trace patterns against my cheek.  From the mix of feelings I was getting from him, I couldn’t help thinking, _maybe?_  

He answered me out loud, “I still don’t know if I want to-”

“That’s fine,” I assured him. I quieted my naughtier impulses and rested my hand against his chest. “This is nice.”

“It is,” he said, and the thought surprised him a little bit.  He was beginning to realize that the older he got, the more he enjoyed physical affection.

When he leaned down to press a kiss against my forehead, I tipped my head up and met his lips with my own.  His hands fluttered against my hair, against my face, against my shoulders, mirroring the erratic thoughts racing through his head. Kissing was something he’d done so many times before, but in this new body it felt alien to him, so very human he almost couldn’t stand it.

I broke contact to catch one of his hands and draw it back to my cheek.  “Slower, then.” He blinked rapidly, relieved but almost embarrassed. “It’s okay,” I assured him. I let my mouth drift to his jawbone, then to his ear, then his neck, lingering over a few soft, deliberate kisses. I paused between each one to let him take it in at his own pace. He was making an effort to keep his hands calm now, one hand flat against my back, the other steady against my face.  Each of my kisses stoked a growing tingle of arousal in the Doctor’s core, and his tangled thoughts began to converge on that feeling.

He grasped at a thought, a strange thought that had been bothering him.  “This is all so familiar to you,” he said.

“You’re repeating yourself,” I murmured into the hollow of his jaw.

He basked briefly in the feeling of my lips brushing his skin before continuing.  “Do we do this often?”

“Just about every time you visit.”  The sibilants and plosives puffed tiny bursts of air against his neck, sending a shiver like goosebumps down his back.  He’d suspected as much, but instead of worrying him, this time it turned him on… which seemed to surprise him a little bit. 

His thoughts echoed through my mind.  _Could I really…?_

I pressed another kiss just under his earlobe. His eyes shut and he exhaled slowly , his mind turning to the first night he met me. He remembered tugging my gown away from my breasts, my naked body pressed against his for a fleeting moment. His thoughts combined with my own memories of lying in bed, naked and wanting him, to form a mutual fantasy of what could have happened, might have happened if he’d decided to kiss me, if only he’d allowed himself…

Then our thoughts turned to his last visit, and the way I moved against him. How quickly he could have undone his trousers, rent the cloth between my legs with one rough yank, and thrust up into me.  How that thought had haunted him afterwards, in quiet moments when that image would force its way unbidden into his mind.

_I could.  Heavens help me.  I could._

One of my hands had crept down his chest, now resting a few inches above the hem of his trousers.  “Would you like me to?”

He looked down at my hand, then back at my face.  _I could, I really could, I could say yes and then…_ his breath quickened as fantasies tumbled through his head.  His eyes flicked across my face, down my body, and back up in an instant.

I didn’t need words.  I felt his _yes_.

I took my hand away from his chest, puzzling him for a moment before I shifted to straddle him.  Once he realized what I was doing, he gripped my waist and pulled me into his lap.  He pushed his hips up, gasping at the friction.

I leaned in, resting my temple against his, my lips close to his ear.  “No need to rush, Doctor.”  I pulled the bow-tie from his collar and moved to his buttons.  He closed his eyes as I slowly undressed him, focusing on the points of contact where my fingers would graze his skin.

He reached for my breasts, his fantasy tugging at his mind.  I leaned back to give him space to explore. He surprised me by tearing my dress straight down the front, exposing me.

“Doctor!”

“We’ll get you a new dress,” he said.  “This, now…”  The Doctor’s fingers played at my nipples.  “This is more important.”   Then he inhaled sharply, realizing that they were hardening.  He bent into my body, pressing his lips into my neck.  Little noises escaped his throat as his mouth worked from my neck down my collarbone.  He pulled at my shoulders, angling our bodies so his mouth could explore my breasts.  My fingertips were buried in his hair. I wanted him to feel how good I felt. Eventually his hands traced over the curve of my ass, finding my panties. “Are you always this wet?”

“For you,” I said.  And then I lost the power of speech, as he thrust up and against me through the soaked fabric. I sank down over him, temple-to-temple, the two of us lost as we moved together.

“I need,” he begged, gasping. He didn’t have to say anything else.

I shoved my underwear to the side and angled him into me. It wasn’t long before I was riding him, gripping the back of my sofa to use as leverage. This time I was the one attempting to maintain control, to keep it from going too fast. I think the only reason it lasted as long as it did is that he hadn’t yet learned my body.  We moved together, but not with the exquisite timing I’d come to expect. It was incredibly raw, driven by the Doctor's need.

I don’t have the will of a Time Lord.  Both of us writhed and yelped and held desperately to one another, one body and one mind.  He arched completely up into me when we came.

Afterwards the Doctor pulled me down to him, cradling me in his arms.  “Incredible,” he whispered.  I could feel his wonder, that this form of closeness wasn’t lost to him. Everything that passed before made so much more sense now.

 _Sleep…_   The thought traced through our joined mind, and before I quite realized what was happening he’d hoisted me up and carried me to bed. I was asleep before I hit the pillow, completely contented.


	12. And Perhaps The Last

“Good morning, sleepyhead! Rise and shine.”

I opened my eyes to see the Doctor, fully dressed, standing in my bedroom door. “Mmh?”

“That’s right, up and at’em,” he said, smiling wide. He disappeared into my apartment, calling behind him, “Breakfast’s on, hurry up!”

Though it was an effort to get out of bed, by the time I had clothes on, I was feeling surprisingly well-rested. The table was already set with two plates of scrambled eggs. The Doctor sat at one of the chairs, grinning up at me.

I took a seat and dug in. “Hope you like eggs,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself.

“I was kinda hoping for scones,” I said around a mouthful. “But these are surprisingly good.”

Sharing a normal meal with the Doctor, after all we’d been through, should have been a nice respite from the drama. But instead, it felt strange. He was too quiet, and I couldn’t get a read on him since we weren’t touching.

As we finished up, I asked him straight-out, “What are you thinking?”

The Doctor opened his mouth immediately, as if to set off on his usual babble, but he seemed to reconsider. His mouth closed again, and his forehead wrinkled. I think what stopped him is, he didn’t want to lie to me. Eventually, he took my hand.

I could feel his lingering concern. I’d said that things would be safe here – boring, even – but he still wasn’t sure. We sat there in silent contemplation, his doubt chasing my reassurance, both thoughts weaving through our minds.

When I got up, it was because I remembered to mark my calendar. As I did so, I paused, looking at the record of our relationship. I noticed how this was the only visit this month. I thought about my friends, and my post-graduation plans.

I took the calendar down from the wall.

The Doctor had already risen to his feet, standing a respectful arm’s length behind me. I turned to him and made myself smile. “I understand why you’d have your doubts,” I said. “But I want you to feel completely safe coming here. So I want you to take this.” I held out the calendar.

As he took it from me, I explained, “Every day I’ve marked is a day you’ve come to visit me, completely uneventfully. No invasions, no adventures. Just… this. You and me. Guaranteed.”

The Doctor held the calendar between his hands like it was made of ancient parchment, as if it would crumble in his grasp. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” I said. And I was. I told him, “You deserve a place where you can be safe,” and I meant it completely.

His jaw worked soundlessly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words. Then, in an instant, he closed the distance between us to envelop me in a hug, so tight it was almost crushing. Gratitude poured from his mind into mine. “Thank you,” he said.

There was only one thought in my mind. I couldn’t say it, and I knew he’d never say it back, but I felt it as hard as I could.

After he left, I cried.


	13. Farewell Tour

One day followed the next, and as it does, the time passed.

Life went on. I graduated. Spent a while volunteering, living off the accounts that Aunt Em set up for me. Time traveling family has its perks, y'know? Eventually made plans to move to be closer to my online friends - that's how I ended up here.

I was more than halfway through packing up the house. Boxes everywhere, almost all my stuff except for my big furniture and my computer. I was sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of tea, and I realized that he wouldn't know where to find me after the move. It's one thing when you don't expect someone to show up, but now he really  _couldn't_. Ever again. Even if he wanted to. I was aching, and exhausted, and the thought had me half in tears. So I closed my eyes, and I made a wish. I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but I just... I wanted to see him one last time so badly it hurt. But I like to think that somehow he could still feel me across all that time and space.

Because he came.

At first I thought the sound was my own wishful thinking, but there's no mistaking the TARDIS when she lands. Then there he was, rushing out of my bedroom just like any other time. I must have stood up, because I remember being on my feet, standing barely an arm's length away from the Doctor when I noticed the worry lines creasing his forehead above tight-knit eyebrows. We both came to a stop, searching the other for signs. He glanced at a stack of boxes, then back up to me. "Am I early, or late?" he asked.

I answered him by crashing into his arms, where there was no need for words.

We held each other tight in a voiceless exchange of emotion. He felt different, worn thin somehow. I'm sure the Doctor could feel the longing and worry behind my relief at his presence, just as I could feel the deep well of sorrow underwriting the comfort he felt in my arms. Together we sought out that relief, that comfort, layering together to become a building warmth that we both desperately needed. Our hearts were so full that, just for a moment, there was no room for anything else.

When we spoke, everything came out in a jumble. I think I spoke first, but he was quick to follow. "I didn't think-"

"I know-"

"I'm just so glad-"

"I should've come sooner-"

"-you're here now." I said that, and he felt the most incredible pang of regret. "What's wrong?"

A fierce affection swelled within him. "Nothing's wrong. I'm here now," he echoed, "with you."

The Doctor dipped his head to kiss me. The press of his lips was soft, exquisitely tender, rich with meaning. Without having to speak, or even really think about it, it was obvious where we were in each other's timeline. Our hands moved with the confidence of long practice, our bodies already knowing exactly how to fit together. I could feel the ache of recognition in him: the bittersweet unearthing of an almost-forgotten memory of good times past. I knew in my gut he'd been away for longer than I could fathom. We were both in each other's past. Recent past for me. For him, distant.

My curiosity overcame me. In between kisses I asked him, "How long has it been?"

"Ages," he groaned into my mouth. His need was immediate and vast, a rolling wave sweeping me into the depths of sudden passion. It had been so long - for him, for me, our perceptions were blending again - and he knew just where to touch me.

The Doctor curled into me as we kissed in my hallway, and the comfortable warmth in our bellies smouldered into a base desire. One palm pressed firm at the small of my back, holding my hips flush against his; his other hand swept deliberately along the familiar curves of my body, pausing to grab and tweak. I clung to him and let his need build within both of us. Together we fell headlong into the reverberating sensations of his hands on my body, my mouth on his mouth, my spreading wetness and his stiffening cock, flashes of fantasies and memories sparking between our minds. I don't know how long we stood there kissing and groping and grinding and _wanting_. 

An hour or five minutes later, he cupped my cheek and broke the kiss. Still forehead-to-forehead, so close that I could feel his breath on my lips. "I can't wait," he moaned, "not one more second." I let him pull me into the bedroom, let his quick hands strip the clothes from my body while my own clumsy fingers stumbled over his buttons. When I was down to my panties he took a step back to admire my body. He was a pretty sight as well: most of his buttons were undone, braces dangling at his sides, the line of his hard cock tenting the front of his trousers. He made a hungry sound and reached for me, his fingers slipping under the hem of my underwear. He dropped to his knees as he drew my panties down my legs, pressed his face between my thighs as the flimsy garment hit the floor. His fingertips dug into the meat of my hips and ass while my own fingers twined in his hair, and together we kept my balance as he rooted into me shamelessly with his lips and tongue.

I'm sure when he pulled away he meant to take it to the bed, but I was too worked up to move that far. He didn't even get a word out before I was shoving at his shoulders to push him back against the edge of my bed. I sank down onto him, straddling his thighs, tearing his fly open with frantic hands. His cock was free for barely an instant before I sank down onto him, drawing satisfied groans from both of our throats. I leaned into him so that my temple was flush with his and those groans turned into shouts. There's no words to describe the sensation of our minds joining, sharing in the sensations of each other's bodies, cascading infinitely, fractal-deep.

His hands were everywhere on me, but mine stayed clenched in place - one behind his head to keep our thoughts entwined, one gripping his shoulder for leverage as I rocked into him. The edge of my bedframe jutted into his back, and my knees rubbed raw on my cheap carpet, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the raw need that drove our bodies together. We fucked like the world was ending with my hips crashing into him, burying his cock completely with each quickening stroke.

When we came the Doctor gripped me so tight there was no space between us, We could barely do more than writhe into each other, but that's all we needed. The kaleidoscopic sensations from our bodies echoed together, resonated, amplified. It was almost unbearable the way he drew it out, grinding into me impossibly deep, shifting under me to press friction against my clit. He didn't want to let me go, even as our shudders turned into sighs.

The first movement to pull away took a monumental effort, even just to lean back and see the smiles on each other's faces. Eventually the awkward position caught up to us. I can't remember which one of us shifted first, between his aching back and my stinging knees. But one of us moved, and afterwards we unraveled easily, slouching back on our haunches, sprawled over each other. 

"Blimey," he panted, grinning. "I needed that." I was still catching my breath myself, so I only managed a nod in return.

The Doctor's grin widened, his hands stirring to idly caress me. "And you!" His wandering hands paused to give me a quick squeeze. "You have every right to slap me silly for keeping you waiting so long. And instead you give me this." He gazed adoringly up at me.

"Trust me, Doctor," I said, catching my breath, "It was selfish."

I know he could feel my humor, but his response was earnest: "It was more than I deserve."

"It's not about 'deserve'," I insisted.

"There you go again." He hushed me with a hand to my cheek, impressing grateful sincerity into every word. "You've been so kind to me. Through everything I've done to you. Through rage, and tears, and loss." The old familiar sadness was creeping back in.

I pressed my own gratitude into his mind. "You've done a lot more for me than that."

The Doctor responded with an appreciative smile that soon turned cheeky. "There's a lot more that I'd like to do for you, too." His hand trailed down my chest, fingetrips teasing at my breasts. "It's been so long since I could feel you," he said, and I knew he meant the psychic connection just as much as the physical one. He leaned in for a kiss and I could feel him hard again against my leg. My surprise amused him. He'd done it on purpose, to please me. As I wondered if I'd be ready so soon again I felt him come up with a plan.

He leaned in deeper, shoving at me until I felt myself falling backwards. Then he was on top of me, one hand cradling my head as it hit the floor, the other bracing him above me. He kissed my lips, then my jaw, then my neck. When he reached my collarbone - whether by his desire or my instinct, I don't know - I knew to twine my fingers through his hair, so that he could keep feeling me. His mouth trailed down my body, wandering across my stomach, pressing sweet kisses into the crease between my belly and my mound. He trailed kisses down one thigh and up the other, then back again, circling my sex but not touching it yet.

My hands were still in his hair, and he reached up for a brief instant to cover one of my hands with his - _let me feel you_  - then moved his hand away to spread my thighs. 

The first time his tongue brushed over my clit it was like lightning struck. My fingers twisted in his hair, my back went rigid, and my legs kicked out - and he moved along with me, not letting up on his deliberate pace, licking gentle circles around and then over my clit, around and then over, again and again until I was arching into his mouth, until he had me wanting more.

As always, his pace was measured, his escalation gradual. His tongue never stopped circling, with a pressure that seemed too gentle even as it built. All the while I felt a part of his attention directed at me, feeling through my responses. Every once in a while he'd flick his tongue across my clit with a sudden fierceness, feeling satisfaction when I coiled and flexed and cried out in response, then back to the slow build of steady, constant lapping, just a little faster each time.

I closed my eyes and lost myself in the radiating pleasure arcing through me, making my hips rock and chest heave.  When I focus on my hands cupping the Doctor's head I could feel the taste of me on his tongue and the sly second-hand pleasure he felt at my body's reactions. His fingertips swept up the crease of my labia, to press - oh! - lightly at the entrance to my body, and there's no pause in the steady, constant lapping at my clit, a little faster now as the tip of one finger presses gently into me, sliding into my wetness with no resistance. He slipped a second fingertip easily beside it, finding me already stretched from his cock.

His fingers pushed deeper into me, then slowly back out an inch, then in again, and suddenly he's fucking me with his fingers while his tongue continued the steady, constant lapping, a little faster now to keep pace with his quickening fingers that curled inside of me, seeking out - OH! - that sweet spot that feels like my clit is getting worked over from both sides, his fingers thrusting _just right_ , perfectly in time with the steady, constant lapping at my clit. 

As he drove me up and up I wanted him to fuck me so badly, and I could feel how hard he was. And of course he could feel how close I was. He didn't let up; he just kept escalating until his mouth was frantic on me, licking as hard and as fast as I needed it, his fingers fucking me as hard and as fast as I _needed_ it. Just as I was about to start begging for it I was there, coming, harder than ever before - with him, with myself, with anyone.

It gets blurry after that. 

What I remember most is how his hands never left my body. He submersed himself within me, filled his mind with me. It gave every touch an incredible reverberating depth. Even when we weren't fucking, the Doctor moved with me, occupying the space around me, maintaining the continuity of our bodies and minds. I should have known then that he was running from something, but I was... distracted.

We eventually ended up in bed somehow. That's where my mind finally came back into my body. The Doctor had worn himself out pleasuring me, and we were floating together in the afterglow. Our barriers had been blown wide open, our minds wandering wordlessly together, all feeling and no thought. There was a sense of homecoming, a nostalgia fulfilled, that struck me as odd. And then I remembered the conversation that almost happened when he first arrived. 

"How long has it _really_ been?" I asked him.

He smiled, but there was a sadness in him. "Too long."

"How long?" I asked.

Without a word, he told me: Long enough for him to forget what it was like to feel safe.

Long enough that when he'd come across my old calendar he'd immediately forgotten what he'd been doing at the time and stopped cold. He'd turned the pages over in his hands, checking every double-crossed date - one for me, and one for him. He chuckled when he turned to the beginning, remembering how thoughtlessly he'd flipped through the days, thinking bittersweetly about how it all worked out in the end. "The end" - hah - for him that was fast approaching, and-

My attention snapped to that passing thought, and he cringed, more internal than external. My mind was a question mark, troubled, concerned.

"I don't want to talk about it," he lied. He didn't want to burden me, and I didn't care. Nothing the Doctor could tell me would be a burden. I waited. I would wait as long as he needed. Until he finally said the thing that he was running from: "I'm dying."

I reacted with shock, immediacy. Before I could ask what happened, he corrected himself, "Oh, no, I'm not _dying_ dying." He patted me. "Not going anywhere, not tonight. But it will happen. Sooner than I'd like."

There was a finality behind his words that suggested something other than random existential angst. With him being a time traveler and all, it was natural for me to ask, "Do you _know_?"

He nodded gravely.

"Well can't you just... not show up?"

"I can't run forever. And, you know, I'm alright with dying if something good will come out of it." An equal mix of pride and dread came with this, and I don't know how much of which was whose. "I just don't know if I'm brave enough to face it." Self-loathing sunk through his core. The Doctor truly believed that he deserved to die.

I knew what that feeling was like. I'd felt it myself, before I'd met him. I know you can't argue with that feeling. It's impossible to talk yourself out of it, or anyone else. So I did the only thing I could do. I returned the gift he'd given to me, that brought me out of my own dark place. I loved him.

He wrapped himself tighter around me, clinging close to me. Even as he sought my comfort, his mind rejected it. He needed someone to love him, and he had it, but he couldn't let himself accept it.  _Not worthy_ , he thought.  _I don't deserve this._  As if that would change what I felt for him.  _I've hurt you, I've made you cry._  As if my tears weren't part of that same love.  _I'm going to leave and never come back._ We cried together over that, and still, I loved him. He couldn't ruin it, or use it up, or put even the smallest dent in it. I loved him. I...

I don't know if he truly accepted it. But I did the best I could. And I believe it made a difference, though I'll never know for sure.

That night, while I was asleep, he left. And he never came back.


	14. Epilogue

That's it. There's not much more to say. 

Yeah. I asked Aunt Em about it, after. She was there, so...

She told me it was quick. That he didn't suffer. Dunno whether that's the truth, but I'm not going to grill her about it or anything. She loved him too. I'm sure she doesn't want to dwell on it any more than I do.

No. I thought about it but decided against. I figured it was something private. I'd feel weird about prying; she pulled the pages for a reason, y'know?

Honestly? I figure it was probably sex stuff. I mean, they were married at one point.

I dunno. I guess I could. Prob'ly won't, though.

You're awful nosy, aren't you?

Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s one of them. Where the hell did it come from?

What are you- GET OFF- STOP! NO-

_._

_There is a scream and then silence. You stare at the capsule in your hand, but the pulsing red light within it contains no answers._

_You realize suddenly that you don't know where you are. You don't remember how you got here._

_You close your eyes and make a wish._

_The silence is smothering. The darkness closes in._

_Then you hear it. The sound is unmistakable. A white light appears out of nowhere, fading into existence, faint and then blindingly bright as the TARDIS rings a final landing chime. You hear the creak of a wooden door and see golden light shining through a doorway that shouldn't exist. In that doorway stands the silhouette of a tall, lanky man with a shock of wild hair. You know what he's going to say before he speaks, but hope still leaps in your chest when you hear it:_ Hello. I'm the Doctor.

_And so your adventure begins..._


End file.
